


What it Takes

by Ray_Writes



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Laurel Lance, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Contains Olicity at Beginning But Not for Those Fans, F/M, Family Drama, Identity Reveal, Laurel Lance is the Black Canary, Metahuman Laurel Lance, Morally Bankrupt Quentin Lance, On the Run, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other additional characters to be added, Post-Season/Series 03, Pre-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29089545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Writes/pseuds/Ray_Writes
Summary: The summer the Arrow leaves - or dies, as the public believes - Quentin Lance decides vigilantism in Starling City must be brought to an end once and for all. When his daughter stands defiant, lines are crossed, and Damien Darhk sees an opportunity to accelerate his plans for Genesis in the midst of a fight for the city's soul. Can the Black Canary save the world, and just which allies will end up joining her?
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Laurel Lance, Laurel Lance & Team Arrow, Laurel Lance & Team Flash, Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen
Comments: 128
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! Yes, a new story as opposed to the sequels I am meant to be writing. Apologies, but this is the idea that grabbed my muse most over the last few months and what I have managed to finish in its entirety in order to begin posting for you all. I will be attempting to stick to my updating once-a-week on Saturdays schedule, and unless unforseen schedule conflicts pop up, that should continue for the next 18 weeks.
> 
> As the summary and tags hopefully indicate, this is an AU set between seasons 3 and 4, though borrowing characters and plot elements from the latter season while following up on things from the prior season. I never fully understood why Lance is just... okay with Laurel being a vigilante in season 4 after everything that went on in the back half of season 3, why he's suddenly perceived by the narrative as one of the "good guys" again. In this story, he will not be, though hopefully I have avoided bashing and instead am portraying the character as is, but leaning into some of his worse habits and traits. If you hold Quentin near and dear to your heart and think he is the best father Laurel could've asked for, I recommend giving this story a miss.
> 
> As the tags indicate and as in a lot of my stories, Laurel is a metahuman in this fic. There's not too much time spent dwelling on why that is the case, but suffice to say if Cisco's powers only started to emerge several months after the accelerator explosion and if Deathbolt wasn't in Central when it exploded and still got powers, why can't these things be true for Laurel? There will be at least one other character making a brief appearance later on who is a meta in the comics but wasn't on the show as well, but I'll leave you to wonder who that might be for now...
> 
> I will be adding characters as they become relevant/introduced within the chapters (Oliver's already listed since I'm not going to hide that this story will - eventually - have a Lauriver endgame), so don't worry just yet if your favorites aren't on there. This story is going to have a rather wide scope and stakes, and there will be some additions from the DC Universe that have not appeared within the Arrowverse. More on that to come.
> 
> As ever, a thousand thanks to the Lauriver discord for their endless support and feedback on the sections I shared on the server. A special shout-out especially to both Okoriwadsworth and Nyame for beta-reading the story in its entirety and catching some errors before I begin posting. Lastly, thanks to you all for continuing to indulge me in starting these new ideas even if you're waiting on other projects. I hope that this story will be satisfying to dive into in the meantime.
> 
> With all that out of the way, please enjoy!

Quentin Lance didn’t know what to do about his daughter. It was a feeling he was pretty accustomed to by this point.

Usually that feeling was accompanied by worry or concern, and while he still felt those things they resided far in the back of his mind. What he chiefly was was angry and disappointed.

The wound over Sara’s death still felt fresh. After all, he’d only found out a few short months ago while Laurel had had the better part of this past year now to process it. And in processing it, she had apparently decided to keep up the Arrow’s crusade in some crazy bid to honor her sister. But Quentin remembered what Sara had wanted the Arrow to really do: keep her family safe.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew it was still Queen no matter what the public now believed. He was just sorry that Harper kid had died over the whole thing. But that was the thing about fanatical groups like vigilantes; they lived and died by the cause.

He did _not_ want to see Laurel die out there. He would not.

The trouble was in stopping her. She knew he knew, yet that hardly seemed to frighten or phase her. Even Queen seemingly quitting and moving away didn’t put a halt to her activities. She’d just found some more friends willing to risk it all like she was. A female archer and a man in some kind of helmet. These people just seemed to spring out of the ground these days, ready-made to ignore the rule of law.

“It’s a real problem,” Damien Darhk, a potential White Knight investor City Council was truly hoping to snag, had said only at this afternoon’s meeting. “The constant tension between them and the police creates distrust. And nothing can really grow out of an environment of distrust. Whoever these people are, no matter how good their intentions may be, they are holding Star City back from real progress.” Damien had looked around the table, his eyes landing on Quentin. “Something has to be done about them.”

He had nodded, understanding the truth of that and wishing the DA’s office had been invited to this session so Laurel could’ve heard what actual good people not caught up in all this nonsense thought about her actions.

“And if something isn’t done, Mr. Darhk?” Councilwoman Pollard had asked. “Only one of them has ever successfully been caught before.”

And not even the right one, he had thought even while the implied slight towards his ability had stung.

“Well, I don’t _like_ saying it,” Damien had replied. “But I don’t know that I can safely invest in this city with them on the loose. They’re an incalculable risk. Not good for business.”

All eyes at the table had turned on Quentin then, and his marching orders had been clear: stop the vigilantes, whatever it took. That meant stopping his daughter. Easier said than done, in his experience.

Quentin could admit even his sense of reason had taken a leave of absence only a year ago when it came to vigilantism. He had thought that the Arrow was necessary in the face of threats like the Undertaking or the Siege. But he had remembered himself and knew better. The Undertaking could have been stopped years before a bomb was put in their subway tunnels had Moira Queen just come forward to the authorities with her information; the Siege had only happened because of a grudge Slade Wilson had held against Oliver Queen and his vigilante crusade to ‘save’ the city; everything Ra’s al Ghul had done had been because of his wish to get Queen to join his crazy cult like Sara had. And he would have never wanted Queen had Queen not been showing off as a damn vigilante in _Quentin’s_ city. The Arrow had brought nothing but ruination to the home and the people he claimed to love. _He_ had failed their city, not the people he had decided to act as judge, jury and — only too recently — executioner for.

Now Laurel was carrying on in the man’s wake, ‘honoring’ her sister by choosing a path Sara had been forced into. His baby girl had never wanted to be a fighter. And the violence she had been forced into had ended in violence, as it always did. Why couldn’t Laurel see the cost of this was going to be her life? Was this just the latest manifestation of her grief? Instead of killing herself with drugs and booze, she was daring some criminal to do it instead.

Well, he wouldn’t sit by and lose his only remaining daughter, not when he could do something about it. She clearly didn’t think he would dare, but just like she had used to pull him out of the bars, he would get her off the streets. For her sake and the city’s.

With that thought in mind, he approached Liza Warner, the leader of SWAT. “Warner, need to see you in my office. Sensitive assignment.”

Who knew if this city could ever be saved? But by God, he was going to save his daughter, even from herself.

\---

Laurel was well-trained in the art of spotting an undercover cop parked outside her apartment. It was a tactic her dad had always employed at the slightest hint of a threat made towards her in her line of work, at least whenever he had the authority to do so.

Considering she couldn’t think of anything currently going through the DA’s office to warrant a detail — and given especially how strained her relationship with her father still was — Laurel found herself curious and a little wary as to what this was about. She knew better to approach the officer; tongue-in-cheek as it might seem to somebody when they spotted an undercover cop, blowing their cover was a very serious offense, and on the chance that they _were_ monitoring for some kind of external threat, it could put their life in danger as well. Laurel couldn’t help wondering, however, if the threat they were monitoring wasn’t her.

They hadn’t really talked about it since everything that had happened with the League a short month and a half ago, but her father was aware she was a vigilante. Given he had yet to officially disband his freshly reinstated Anti-Vigilante Taskforce, that put things in an awkward position. He’d known Sara was a vigilante, too, and never had a bad word to say about it, but Laurel knew she shouldn’t take that kind of grace for granted; her parents had never set the same standards for conduct or leniency between her and her sister.

So what was this, then? An intimidation tactic? A message that, no matter if he was speaking to her or not, he could always have his eyes on her? While she had no intentions of being intimidated, it would probably be for the best not to poke the bear right away.

As she got into the elevator in her lobby, Laurel got out her phone and texted the chat she shared with Thea and John: _can’t make it tonight_

Laurel entered her apartment and set her work bag aside, heading into her bedroom to change out of her pantsuit. She looked up at the box on her shelf containing her Black Canary suit. She and the others didn’t really have a set base of operations just yet, given they’d lost the Verdant and didn’t have access to Palmer Tech without Felicity. The reminder of their missing friends only gave rise to the melancholy her night alone in her apartment promised, but she pushed it down. Oliver and Felicity were happy and in love. She wouldn’t wish anything more for them no matter her own feelings.

On an impulse, she took the box down for a moment and pulled out Sara’s jacket, shrugging into it over the tang top she now wore. If she couldn’t be out there continuing to protect the streets tonight like her sister once had, she could still feel close to her.

She checked her kitchen for anything to eat, pondering the idea of heading out all the same to pick up food, when a knock came at her door. Laurel slipped her feet into her sneakers and checked the peephole. Even better than her mysteriously assigned guard, it was her father. He must have been called when she entered her building. She opened the door.

“Something I can help you and your officers with, dad?”

“We’ll see. There’s something we gotta talk about.”

She stepped aside to allow him through, following him into the sitting room. He eyed Sara’s jacket for a long moment, then looked away.

“I know you think she’d be proud of you,” he began.

“I don’t think, I know she would be,” Laurel interrupted. Hallucination or no, Vertigo wouldn’t have shown her Sara _smiling_ on her, seemingly at peace. And even before everything else, her sister had told her that Oliver needed her. No matter what form that took, as friend or teammate or vigilante acting in his stead when he grew weary, she intended to carry out her sister’s words.

Her father waved this off. “Still isn’t right. You’re a lawyer, Laurel, you can’t be that and a- a hunter of the guilty.”

She crossed her arms, waiting to hear whatever he felt he needed to say. Laurel couldn’t guess why he was saying it now or what difference he hoped it would make.

“We need order in this town if we’re gonna rebuild, recover, attract investment. We can’t get it if you and whatever friends you’ve made are running around in costumes beating people up. People need to feel like they’re safe.”

“Because they’ll feel safe from people like Brick if we’re not out there?” She couldn’t resist asking. “Order really solved that problem no trouble. I’m sure the investors would have been thrilled to put their money into his version of the Glades.” What was the deal about investments anyway? Was he some kind of businessman now?

“Laurel, I’m serious. I need your word you and your partners are gonna quit this.” He held both hands up to show his empty palms. “No guns, just you and me. I can guarantee the Black Canary stuff is never gonna touch your record — you just gotta promise it’s over now.”

She shook her head. “You know I can’t do that.” When was he going to get it through his head that she wasn’t his to control, no matter what he felt his rights as her father entailed?

“Then I’m sorry, baby,” he said with a sigh, and Laurel had the sinking feeling of deja vu. “But you’re leaving me no choice.” He took a radio out of his inner jacket pocket and spoke into it. “Move in.”

“Daddy?”

In the next instant, her apartment descended into chaos.

Her door flew open with the _bam_ of a battering ram, five officers in riot gear charging in. The window shattered in a hail of glass as five more swarmed inside. Laurel’s arms came up in a defensive stance, but there was nowhere to turn and nowhere to run, like when the Triad had come for her years ago. And there was no Oliver to protect her this time.

“You’re _arresting_ me?” She demanded in disbelief. All those times he had made outrageous claims about locking her in a cell to keep her safe, she had taken it as nothing more than hyperbole. When he had pointed a gun at her last spring, that had been a shock to the system. But this?

How much did these people know? Had he told them her identity? Behind their helmets and shields, their faces seemed impassive to her eyes, remarkable given they were being asked by their boss to surround his own daughter.

“I’m assuming custodianship,” he answered. “You’re not well, Laurel. I let you get back into work and everything too soon after your sobriety, and it’s clear Sara’s death sent you right back into a spiral.”

“Is it clear?” She couldn’t believe this. It was one thing when Oliver had thrown her addiction in her face, but for her own father to when he _knew_ what that was like?

“You’ll be going to a facility further north,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I cleared this with the DA already. She thinks you’ll be taking time off for bereavement.”

“Because she won’t hear about any of this?” She didn’t even have time to address what an overstep it was for him to be calling her out of work by going over her head. She needed a plan and she needed it _now_.

“I’m the one who’ll answer any questions she has. Just come in quietly, get the treatment,” he said, one hand beckoning her forward like she was some kind of animal he was coaxing. When she didn’t move, he motioned to a man on her left.

He stepped towards her, but Laurel wrenched her arm away before he could take hold of it. “I am not going anywhere with you or your people right now. Custodianship would have to be approved by a judge to be official, so you have no legal power to make decisions for me.” Her eyes darted around the room as she spoke, trying to buy herself time to count the officers and what weapons they carried, determine the quickest route to her own weapons. “And your officers have no right to be here since you’ve failed to present me an arrest warrant.”

“You want to be arrested, do you?” Her father asked, the concerned facade — because that was all it was in the end when a man was willing to shoot his own daughter, wasn’t it — falling away to irritation. He always did have a quick temper. “Warner.”

“Yes, sir.” The lead on the SWAT team got out a set of handcuffs and circled wide around Laurel to her back.

What the hell could she do? There was no way of fighting through all of them; even if she could count on them not firing their guns for fear of friendly fire, they were all still decked out in protective gear and outnumbered her ten to one. Even her father she had to count as an enemy combatant as he watched her with a grim determination set in his jaw.

Did he not realize what this would do? Things had just started calming down in the city, but on their last patrol, Laurel and Thea had spotted what looked like some kind of paramilitary guys speeding away from a shipping crate down at the docks. The crate had been empty when they checked, but she doubted that meant anything good. Whoever those men were, they were going to need to be stopped, and she couldn’t do that if she was taken out of play and sent somewhere out of town.

He was going to blow up her _life_. Rip her away from her home. And what happened when whatever treatment he had deemed necessary didn’t stick, or what if he simply skipped that and did throw her in jail? There were any number of criminals in Iron Heights she had put away through both sides of her life, criminals who would love to find themselves in a locked room with her to exact their revenge. Her father might as well be sentencing her with the death penalty.

This wasn’t about protecting her. It was about controlling her, and she wished she hadn’t realized too late what the difference was.

“So about that trust we had,” she remarked bitterly as the cold metal of the cuff closed over her left wrist.

He shook his head. “You broke it first, honey.”

“Then I hope you enjoy your revenge when it’s left you all alone.”

“Dinah Laurel Lance, you have the right to remain silent,” Warner began.

She ripped away from the woman to turn and glare at her. “I know my rights.” This whole farce of an arrest, her father tricking her to let him into her apartment and the lack of any kind of accountability this was going to have. Her anger and her panic were rising; if he was willing to do this to her, what would happen to Thea and John?

She was struck in the back with a nightstick, and Laurel staggered as her mouth fell open in a cry of pain. Or at least, that was what she’d thought it would be.

“ _SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”_

Warner flew backward into the shields of the officers behind her, who were knocked down like bowling pins under the waves of pure sound and air leaving her. The glass in her picture frames cracked. Even her couch slid backward a few inches.

Laurel backed up with a gasp, the cry breaking off as she touched her throat. How had she done that? She hadn’t even been wearing the device Cisco had made her.

 _Focus on your surroundings,_ a voice remarkably like Oliver’s commanded in her head. Whatever it had been, it had granted her a precious window of opportunity, one she needed to take advantage of _now_.

Her father, who hadn’t even been in the way of the scream that had just left her mouth, was bent double with his hands over his ears, more stunned than anything. Laurel quickly hurried past him to her front door, snagging the collapsible staff she’d been hiding in her umbrella stand. She left the nightstick behind; her back was already aching from the blow she had been dealt with by one.

Her eyes went to the elevator automatically, but Laurel dismissed it in the next instant. It was too slow, and she needed to be out of this building and away as quickly as possible. She had no idea where she was going. All she knew was that she had just involuntarily attacked a number of SWAT officers, and that wouldn’t be something her father could sweep under the rug even if he were inclined to do so.

She pushed open the fire door and flew down the stairs two at a time, digging her phone out of her jeans pocket. If she could just get a hold of Thea or John — or would that only be landing them in the same danger she found herself in?

As she reached the bottom, she heard the fire door upstairs bang open a second time, followed by her father’s bellow. “Laurel!”

She burst out of the side door and immediately had to make for the back of the building instead of the main street. From her third-floor window, she could hear some of the officers shouting down to forces that were apparently on the ground.

“She’s headed outside. Do _not_ let her past!”

Scrabbling up onto the lid of one of the building’s dumpsters, Laurel heaved herself up and over a fence, the handcuff that was still fastened to her one wrist jangling against the metal. She clutched the cuff with one hand to stop it from making much noise.

“Check around the back! Find her!”

Laurel took off running. The more distance she could put between herself and them right now, the better. She had no idea if there was permission to shoot her on the record, but years of being a lawyer told her that restrictions went out the window as soon as a case could be made for resisting arrest.

Laurel Lance, a fugitive of the law. She should have realized this could happen. Oliver had nearly been brought in only this past spring if not for Roy’s intervention and the plan worked out with ARGUS. There was no such plan for her and no way to enact one; the rest of her suit besides Sara’s jacket waited in her apartment to be discovered, which it would be since they would likely tear the place apart from top to bottom. Her photos, her AA chips, everything she had to her name… tears sprang to her eyes, and it got hard to breathe. Laurel looked around wildly and spotted an open convenience store. She tucked the handcuffs up the sleeve of her jacket and went inside with her head ducked, marching straight back to the bathroom. It was a single occupancy, so she locked the door and gripped the sink with both hands as she caught her breath.

This was insane. Her dad, the one person who had _always_ been in her life, was hunting her. _Her_ , not Black Canary. As mad as he had been the last few months, he had never crossed that line until now. How could he? That he might never truly forgive her for keeping Sara’s death a secret was something she had reluctantly accepted, but this was beyond proportionate retaliation. This was declaring war on her life.

She couldn’t say how far she had run, but there was a stich developing in her side. What she wouldn’t give to have her bike right now. John was storing both hers and his behind his house since he had the space. Again, she reached for her phone.

But what if she was captured? She couldn’t risk them going through her contacts or messages; there was nothing that stood out as incriminating in the texts themselves to her recollection, but Laurel knew just by the frequency of contact between herself, John and Thea that the two of them would become persons of interest and suspected of being her nighttime partners. She couldn’t let that happen, so she shut her phone off.

That would only do for a while. Laurel never understood _everything_ in one of Felicity’s infodump babbles, but she’d picked up enough to know a phone’s location could be turned on remotely. Maybe even the phone itself. She’d have to remove her SIM card. Destroying it would be even better.

But where could she go to do that, or go at all if she couldn’t seek out one of her friends? She’d have to find somewhere to squat. The old base seemed too obvious given the police were after her for vigilante activity. Sara’s old clock tower was still a ruin. But maybe…

It was a risk, given they were known associates. But she had hope her father would’ve forgotten about this place given his obsession with the current vigilantes. At least long enough for her to figure out what the hell her next move was.

\---

John awoke from a restful night off feeling better than he had in a while. They’d been running nonstop in the weeks since Ra’s attack and on a barebones budget. Combine that with John also spending time on training Laurel and Thea in new techniques, and he hadn’t been at all upset when Laurel had called off yesterday, allowing him to make the decision that they should all take a breather.

He and Lyla had had a nice dinner and put Sara down to bed together before relaxing in their own. There’d been a number of police sirens able to be heard out there in the distance, but fortunately Sara hadn’t woken up and Lyla had assured him that the cops could handle things for one night. “After all, they have to be getting paid for something,” she’d remarked.

Getting in some time with his family had been a much-needed recharge. That had been Oliver’s problem; he threw himself into things the whole way and never stopped to fulfill his own personal needs, and John was convinced that was why the man had quit and left town. 

It still burned a little, that he and Felicity had just thrown the towel in like that. Felicity, he could understand a little. She wasn’t someone acclimated to conflict and violence, and he would prefer she kept that light she held than sacrifice it. This last year had been hard on her. But Oliver had been the one to recruit John to this cause in the first place, had made all those grand statements about how he understood what it was like to fight a war. Well, like a good general, John supposed, Oliver had packed up and left the battlefield to the real soldiers. And this wasn’t even the first time.

His former partner’s problem was he was a sprinter, not a distance runner. He didn’t pace himself, didn’t want to dig in and fight to make the slow, incremental progress. John had decided with his new teammates to make it quite clear that he didn’t expect things to magically be fixed in Starling City overnight, no matter if City Council went through with that rumored name change or not, to which Thea had replied with a flippant, “Well, good thing I’ve got literally nothing else to do.” and Laurel had given a single nod.

It had struck John only too recently that Laurel had been a soldier in this war for their home just as long if not longer than any of them, fighting any way she knew how. He’d been too angry about Deadshot getting away all those years ago and let it cloud his judgement of her. He’d made a private vow to do better by her from there forward, and to his surprise found it easy to fall into a new pattern of teamwork and friendship with her and Thea. There was something special that happened between people who shared a battlefield.

As John got ready for the day, fixing Lyla some breakfast while she dressed for work, he turned on the little TV that sat on their kitchen counter. The local news was running another segment on the soon-to-open high-speed rail between their city and Central, a comfortable background noise while the eggs sizzled in the pan.

Just as he transferred them onto plates, the weather was pre-empted by one of Channel 52’s newer anchors. The lower third read Susan Williams, and it looked like she was standing in City Hall.

“We’re interrupting our regular programming to bring you live coverage of an emergency press conference called by Police Captain Quentin Lance. As of this moment, we do not know the reason for this conference, but reports indicate there was an unsual amount of activity last night in the downtown district.”

The feed cut to the press briefing room where Lance stood looking haggard and mean, John couldn’t help thinking, with a deep frown set into his face.

“Thank you all for coming out so early. If you can hold any questions for the end,” Lance began. He gripped the podium with both hands and drew in a breath. “As you all know, this past spring I made the decision to reinstate the Anti-Vigilante Taskforce after the Arrow reverted to lethal measures.”

John rolled his eyes. As if Laurel hadn’t told her father a million times by now that those had been Ra’s men.

“This city has had a complicated relationship with vigilantism. I’ll be the first to admit to that myself. But for our home to move past these near constant attacks on our peace and safety, we have got to have law and order. That cannot coexist with individuals who see fit to take the law into their own hands.”

He paused for a moment, looking down at the podium. Something about the way he was standing gave John a very bad feeling. “That is why I have made the difficult decision to come forward with information I recently discovered regarding the identity of one of the vigilantes, known by some in this city as the Black Canary. I regret that she is none other than my own daughter, Dinah Laurel Lance.”

“No,” John said in a punch of air. Behind him, he heard a gasp; Lyla had come in with Sara balanced on her hip at some point, quietly watching without his notice. They locked eyes for a moment as the reporters on television all made their own gasps or astonished sounds, the click of cameras going off to immortalize the moment Lance did the unthinkable.

Why? What had brought this on? And why now? John wanted to believe it was all a dream, but he _knew_ he was awake. He had _heard_ the sirens last night. What had happened?

Was Laurel sitting in a cell this very moment? If she’d been in trouble, why hadn’t her text the previous evening reflected that? She had to know he and Thea would have helped her escape.

“Please hold your questions,” Lance was saying to a far more rowdy room. “As I said, I regret that my daughter has taken this path. Anyone who knows Laurel knows she began her career as a dedicated civil servant. I’m afraid that her associations with others of lesser character as well as personal struggles with grief and other issues has warped her thinking. Last night, I attempted to have her remanded into my custody and transferred to a rehabilitation facility, which she resisted and is now at large. She is to be considered armed and potentially dangerous to others, but most importantly to herself. _Anyone_ with information as to her whereabouts should inform the police immediately.”

“He’s insane,” John muttered, unsure if he was telling Lyla or himself. There were plenty of people who would never breathe a word to the cops if they found Laurel first because they’d be far more interested in exacting revenge on the Black Canary.

He and Thea needed to get out there and find Laurel first, John realized, even as he remained rooted to the spot watching the press conference unfold. It just seemed so unreal.

Reporters were shouting questions now, but it was Susan Williams’ whose stuck out. “Captain, is there proof to support this latest accusation considering your history of misidentifying the Arrow in the past?”

John watched Lance grind his teeth for a moment before nodding to the side. An officer came out with almost Laurel’s full vigilante suit minus the jacket, complete with the sonic choker and her nightstick. Again the cameras flashed.

“These were recovered from her apartment last night.”

“Do you have the identities of the two most recent vigilantes, Captain?” Another reporter asked.

“Not as of yet, but we’re drawing up a list of suspects.”

That brought John up short. They had a list? Was he on it? He looked back at Lyla and Sara, his little family he would do anything to protect. How could he do that from prison or on the run from it? How did he help his friend and remain a free man?

“Is it true there were officers admitted to the hospital last night?”

With each question, John’s hopes were sinking that this could all be chalked up to Lance going on another one of his personal vendettas. Laurel had hospitalized the police?

“There was one officer admitted, but she has since been discharged,” Lance answered, settling at least part of John’s fear. “That’s all the time we have for questions. Thank you.” He quickly marched to the side door and disappeared through it, not acknowledging the reporters who continued to shout.

Susan Williams was soon back in front of the camera, looking almost breathless with the excitement of such a story. “So it seems that the woman who helped rally the Glades last winter and turn back another attack on the city this past May is none other than Dinah Laurel Lance, the city’s own Assistant District Attorney. We’ll be sure to follow this story as it develops, bringing you the updates.”

Lyla moved, coming forward to pick up the remote and turn off the TV. She set Sara down in her high chair, then turned back to him. “What are you gonna do, Johnny?”

“I… I don’t know.” If he came out too boldly against Lance, that would make him suspect number one for being one of the ‘new vigilantes’, as one reporter had put it. But if Laurel didn’t have any help at all, she’d be caught or killed. They needed some kind of strategy, one that protected him and Thea against suspicion.

“I better call Thea before she does something reckless,” he eventually decided as his first course of action. The Queens, after all, were known for going to the extremes for people they loved.

\---

Thea was just barely waking up when her phone rang. Grumbling under her breath, she blearily reached for it and brought the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

_“It’s me, Thea. You haven’t seen the news yet?”_

She sat up slowly, blinking away the sleep from her eyes. “No. Why?”

_“Brace yourself.”_

She hit the home button on her phone and went for her news app, gasping at the headline that accompanied a picture of Captain Lance: _Police captain names own daughter as Black Canary._

“What the hell?”

_“I know.”_

“What- _why_ — where’s Laurel? Is she okay?” Thea scrambled to untangle herself from the bedsheets and get up. When had this happened? How far behind was she? Damnit, she was always the last to know things.

_“I don’t know, Thea. Lance told the press they tried to corner her last night but she got away. She’s not answering any calls.”_

“Then how do we find her?” She felt so stupid. Thea had been staying over at Laurel’s a few nights each week ever since Ollie left them. Part of it was lonlieness; the rest, her growing dislike of the loft she was stuck with. She’d been too embarrassed to come out and just ask if Laurel wouldn’t mind a permanent roommate, but if she just _had_ , if she had _been there_ , Laurel wouldn’t be alone right now.

_“There’s no way to. Not without Felicity to run facial rec and any other scans. Anything we do on the ground might just lead the police straight to her. And we gotta talk about what this means for us, too.”_

Thea’s stomach lurched uncomfortably. “Does he know who we are, too?”

_“If he does, he hasn’t said. My guess is he doesn’t have the proof even if he’s guessed. Which means we need to be careful. You come to O’Neal Park at 2 pm. I’ll be at one of the benches. We can sit and talk there. It’s less conspicuous than you coming to my house.”_

Thea nodded. Even if John had been in her family’s employ at one time, that had pretty much ended about a year and some months ago, and Lance would know he had been closer to Ollie than to her. “Okay. I can do that.”

_“See you then. Stay safe.”_

“You too.” Thea hung up, her heart already pounding despite her day only having just started. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

Thea went down to her coffee maker and started a pot while she pulled up the full article, reading from it with growing incredulity and anger. The way Lance talked about Laurel made her sound unbalanced and not in control of herself, like a child instead of the fully capable and nurturing adult Thea knew her to be. Sure, she’d had some rough times. Who out of any of them hadn’t? But when Thea looked at her friend now, she saw a pillar of support, not someone in need of a mental asylum.

She couldn’t believe she had told Laurel only a few months ago she was lucky to have Lance for a father. Maybe the man hadn’t forced her to kill, but he had just painted a huge target on Laurel’s back the same way Malcolm had hers. And unlike Thea, the entire world now knew about it. How could her friend make it through this?

They’d need to get her out of Starling if they found her. Fake her death like with Roy’s. Thea felt a lump rise in her throat at the thought; why did she keep losing the people most important to her? Why were they forced to go? She didn’t think Laurel would be any more willing to let Thea become a fugitive on the run with her than Roy had been, either.

For Laurel to make it out there somewhere, she’d need a fake identity. Thea had no idea if Lyla could swing another one of those for them so soon or if Waller would refuse it. If so, they needed someone else to do it, and their current tech support was on vacation.

But they’d want to know about this, wouldn’t they? _Ollie_ would want to know. He had left the city in their hands, so anything affecting that arrangement would warrant reaching out. And it was _Laurel_.

Thea had tried a couple times to get in touch to little affect. Either her brother wasn’t checking his emails again or he was ignoring them. Thea had a feeling that he would fail to ignore the subject line she was typing up.

LAUREL’S IN TROUBLE!!!

Beneath it, she attached the article and sent it with no other commentary. Didn’t want to incriminate either of them if her emails were ever subpoenaed. She’d learned that one from her mom.

That done, Thea poured herself a cup of coffee and willed her phone to do something. A reply, a call from Laurel, anything. The hours until 2 were going to be a drag, she could already tell.

One thing she and John were going to need to figure out was just what was behind this latest resurgence of Lance’s reckless temper. It couldn’t just be Sara’s death, but _what_ could drive him to destroy his only living daughter’s life?

\---

Damien found it hard to be shocked by anything after his many years on this rapidly declining planet. But this? Oh, _this_ was delightful. Shakespearean, even.

The Captain, caught between family and duty, and his lovely daughter, the casualty of his devotion to each. Damien truly hadn’t been expecting something so dramatic when he had applied the heavy hand to Starling City’s assorted council members and administrators, but was he beyond thrilled with the results.

With Black Canary identified, that cut the potential meddlers in his plans down by a third, and the other two would no doubt be running scared at the thought of being similarly hunted. Damien could probably even figure out who each of them were just by combing through Miss Lance’s known associates, but it hardly seemed worth the effort unless they failed to go to ground. In any case, he had a small army to keep them busy and power on his side.

Now the real question was what to do with Miss Lance now that he did know her identity. She had evaded capture the previous night, which couldn’t have been an easy feat, and had yet to be found by all accounts. Either the city’s police were even more inept than he’d initially thought, or there was something he was missing. Did he leave it up to the good Captain to corral his daughter, or did he take a more proactive approach?

In the end, Damien decided that patience would rule the day. The wait and see method was a tried and true practice for someone like him. In all likelihood, Laurel Lance would be rounded up or starved out before the end of the week. There was no need to involve himself and risk the exposure of his plans. Let the unworthy sort themselves out before he and his chosen few started over. No sense lowering himself. This was a family affair besides.

Yes, thanks to Quentin Lance, Starling City — and indeed, the world — were as good as his.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The resopnse on this story already has been really exciting, guys. Thank you all very much. I'm hoping you find chapter two a good follow-up to the seismic shifts Lance's decision in chapter one has caused. Enjoy!

As Starling City woke up and took in the news on that otherwise unremarkable day, the reactions to what they were being told were varied.

The members of city council were shocked to learn of the behavior Quentin’s daughter had been engaging in, and some wondered just how long he must have known and kept quiet. Yet still, most on the council felt it had been a responsible action for the Captain to take, bringing transgressions to light no matter how personal to him. He must have been so disappointed in his daughter, after all. If she could be brought in quickly, they’d do their best to support his claim that she needed rehabilitation at a mental health facility. If this awkward business dragged on, they would likely be forced to take a hardline stance. Not one of them envied the position Quentin was in.

Those at the District Attorney’s office struggled to grasp just how the dedicated lawyer they had worked beside had also been moonlighting as a vigilante. One attorney who did not work out of City Hall but instead had an office in the high-rise leased by Weathersby & Stone placed her head in her hands and groaned, “Oh, Laurel.”

A number of scattered individuals connected only by the AA meetings they had all attended at one time or another were suddenly confronted with knowing for certain the full name to the face of a fellow attendee. To some, they couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Others, like a young woman who’d just been treated for a broken arm at an urgent care clinic for a ‘fall’ she took down the stairs, looked back on the things Laurel had shared at their meetings the last several months and could see how it had only ever been inevitable.

A girl named Sin watched the news coverage in stunned silence that quickly grew into a mounting sense of guilt and horror. Sure, she’d pointed out to Lance that the woman in black who’d been going around the streets of late hadn’t been Sara, but she hadn’t meant to jam Sara’s sister up. Why had she ever thought she could trust the cops?

Still more people, particularly those residing in the Glades, could only watch the statements from Captain Quentin Lance in disgust. The Black Canary was hardly as dangerous as the Arrow had been at times. And in her public life, Laurel Lance had helped many of them, whether they had been personal clients of hers at CNRI, the families of victims whose killers or rapists had been tried in court by the ADA, or the homeless she had volunteered to help feed in her youth. Some were only fellow boxers from the Wildcat Gym who had seen her around and knew she had kept their teacher out of prison. Not one of those people could understand how a father would do this to his own daughter. Didn’t he see she’d been trying to help each and every way she knew how? What did he think would happen to the Glades without any vigilantes? The loss of the Arrow was still fresh, but now they knew that once again, they were on their own.

The remnants of gangs and organized crime within the city breathed a sigh of relief. The vigilante scourge that had plagued their city for nearly three years now making their operations so difficult was at an end, and they could expect to soon return to business as usual. While Captain Lance wasn’t nearly as friendly as other captains or commissioners had been in the past, he would not be able to leverage his department with enough effectiveness to curb their activities the way the vigilantes had. Bottles were opened and glasses were raised as early as lunchtime to celebrate the dawn of a new age for the Triad, the Culebras and the many small-time gangs that had eked out territories once held by the Bertinelli Family and the Bratva.

In Iron Heights and Slabside, the news had whipped through the prisons so fast it unnerved the guards. Those criminals that had found themselves behind bars thanks to either the Black Canary or Laurel Lance were pleased to know the women were one and the same, and opinions of Captain Lance had risen sharply in the wake of his dropping that information into their laps. From Werner Zytle to Jason Brodeur, Daniel Brickwell to Martin Sommers, all looked forward to the day she’d come back to Iron Heights, and this time as a fellow prisoner, even if none were clear yet which prison she might be sent to. Even those who had been caught by the Arrow were excited since they felt they’d been cheated of their revenge when the archer had been gutted so quickly. Exacting it upon his bird would be all the sweeter. Though when one inmate in gen pop at Iron Heights made the mistake of announcing his claim to be the first to teach the vigilante a lesson, the guards were forced to break up the fight that followed as no one could seem to agree who went first.

The question all at least could agree was perhaps most important now, however, was where _was_ Laurel Lance?

\---

Ted nearly didn’t leave his house that morning. Considering the effort it took him these days to get up and moving, just about any excuse not to was a danger to that happening. And the morning news hadn’t just been an excuse; it had been a blow.

Another one of his students branded a criminal for taking the path he once had. It wasn’t a surprise exactly; vigilantism was a risk. But to happen so soon and like this was rough.

The trouble was, Laurel had never been much of a vigilante. Not in skill, but in practice. She was too much of an open-hearted hero to hide, too damn trusting of the goodness in others to safeguard against the people closest to her. It got her hurt more often than not from where he was standing.

Ted himself was still hurting from the beating he had taken from Daniel Brickwell a few months back now. The surgeries had been intensive and the physical therapy even more so. With all of that, the doctors still didn’t think he’d ever box again. Ted was determined to prove them wrong.

His gym was closed for the time being, but he used it himself for now to get back into shape for when he _would_ reopen. There were a lot of people that depended on the Wildcat Gym; he’d had enough calls and well-wishers to prove it. So he wasn’t ready to walk away from the mat just yet. Not until he’d left everything he had on it.

Worse came to worse, he could act as a coach rather than a demonstrator. Take somebody on to help teach. Or maybe he could offer the PT exercises he was doing for low cost to others in need of it. One way or another, he’d figure something out.

But as Ted came up to his gym’s front door and got out his keys, he noticed some scratches around the lock. Someone had either tried or successfully gotten in. The door was locked when he tried the handle, so they’d either given up or gone in and locked it again behind them.

It’d be stupid to go in alone if someone was waiting on the other side to get the drop on him. Ted undid the lock and pushed the door open anyway. He faced his battles whenever they came, no matter what shape he was in.

Right away, he heard the sounds of a fighter, but not one coming for him. Across the darkened room was the very student he had seen betrayed by her own father on the news, hard at work on the heavy bag.

This wasn’t normal practice. Laurel was in street clothes for the most part, a leather jacket he’d seen her in a few times laid to the side. Her hair hung down her back rather than tied up, and she attacked the bag with very little form. No, this was less about the routine and more about exorcising whatever anger and grief she no doubt felt at the sudden turn her life had taken. He could hear the gasps of broken sobs in between her heavy breathing, could see how tense she remained even from where he stood.

Ted let the door fall shut behind him with a _bang_ , and one last wild punch was thrown at the bag before Laurel backed up a step with her hands raised in a prepared stance. “You know, I was just thinking about you.”

“Yeah?” She asked, her voice a little thick. “I can guess why.”

He nodded, and she let her arms lower, using one hand to quickly wipe beneath her eyes one at a time.

“I would’ve figured you’d hot foot it to a train station, not come here.”

“With what money? My purse is back at my place — or in evidence, I guess,” she remarked. “I know I shouldn’t be here or getting you in trouble. I’m sorry.” Then came the admission that made her suddenly look very small. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

And if that wasn’t the whole point of this place. Ted shook his head. “Apology not accepted. You should know better than to assume I’d turn you over to the cops by now.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but Laurel said, “That’s not all I’m sorry for. Brick, your injuries.”

“I made the choice to get involved that night. Nobody forced me. Maybe if I’d kept up with things after Isaac, I might’ve had him.” He shrugged. “I’m not gonna make the same mistake. What about you?”

“Me?”

“What’s the plan, Laurel? I don’t want you ending up in the system.” That didn’t tend to end well for captured vigilantes. Isaac, for all his own crimes, had been senselessly murdered by that crazy archer lady, and the Harper kid hadn’t lasted a week in Iron Heights. Even if Ted knew Harper couldn’t have really been the Arrow; he was a bit young to be Laurel’s ex.

“I really don’t know. I mean, _everyone_ knows who I really am now. There’s no taking that back. Even if they disbanded the Anti-Vigilante Taskforce tomorrow, it won’t change that.” She dragged a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her forehead. “I’m still just trying to figure out where this latest push from my dad came from. It can’t be Ra’s since he’s dead.”

Ted didn’t bother asking about who Ra’s was. He didn’t need that involved in whatever the Arrow had been doing last spring.

“I mean, why couldn’t he just come _talk_ to me first about whatever it is, without the SWAT team? I lie to him about _one thing_ and suddenly that’s it? No bond between us, it’s his way or the highway. Never mind all the times he’s lied to me. Sorry,” she said again.

“No, you need to get this out. I don’t got much family myself, but what your father’s done to you with this, it’s… you need to process it.”

“I have spent so many years trying to be there for him, be what he needs,” she told him, slowly backing up to lean against the wall. “He’s not easy to have as a father. But he’s — he was mine.”

The past tense was to be expected. Ted wondered if Captain Lance knew this would permanently put a break between him and his daughter, if he’d cared or if he was tricking himself into thinking this was something that could be patched up.

He started to move to offer her a hand in comfort, but, with balled fists, Laurel pushed off the wall and let out a primal shriek that pierced his ears and ripped the heavy bag out of the ceiling.

Ted coughed as a bit of plaster rained down. “The hell was that?”

She turned away for a moment and coughed as well. “I don’t know. It just keeps happening. I’ll- I’ll fix that.”

Figured that weird stuff was just going to keep happening around here. “I’ll get a guy in. Been meaning to have the place renovated a bit while it’s closed, since most of my medical bills were paid by an anonymous benefactor,” he told her with a pointed look. “I’ve got the cash. But it’ll have to wait til after you’ve figured out where you’re going from here.”

She nodded.

“I’ve got a truck back at my place, but I can’t operate heavy machinery right now. So what about your friends?”

“I didn’t want to approach them. They’re more obvious targets than you are,” she admitted. “And I smashed my SIM card after the conference.”

“To get rid of evidence or because you were pissed off?” He asked. That at least got a grudging smirk. “You can use my phone to call them.”

“Thanks, Ted. Really.” The relief in her tone was palpable.

“Don’t mention it. You stuck up for me when they had me down at that station. I’m always gonna be in your corner.”

For the first time since finding her here, one of Laurel’s smiles emerged. That was her specialty in some ways, smiling through the pain until it became too much. Ted had watched her walk back from that ledge over the course of months after losing her sister. Now the loss of her father — a different kind of loss, and maybe a worse one because of it — threatened to overtake her all over again.

But Ted wasn’t giving up. He had to hope those friends of hers weren’t either.

\---

Thea tried not to feel paranoid as she entered O’Neal Park, but it was hard considering there was no real telling what Lance and the officers at his disposal were capable of now that he’d turned on his own daughter. Was she being followed? Was this all just a giant ambush?

Thea walked around a little, trying not to make it seem obvious as she slowly made her way closer to a bench where John sat ostensibly reading a book. He marked his place as she took a seat on the other end of the bench and scanned their surroundings with his eyes.

“You didn’t notice anything?”

“Nope.”

“Good.” John sighed and looked at her. “How are you feeling about all this?”

“Shocked, mostly,” she answered, and he nodded. “I never would have thought Lance could do something like this. I mean, I thought he loved Laurel.”

“He probably thinks he still does. Wants to send her to some rehabilitation center to ‘get better’. If she gets caught at this point, though, it’s not gonna work out that way.”

“They’ll jail her,” Thea agreed glumly. Laurel had resisted arrest and done something unspecified that had sent an officer to the hospital, even if for one night. “How are we gonna help her, John?”

“Not sure. I drove past your old club just to check, but there were cops parked out front. There anywhere else you can think of where she might be hiding out?”

Thea shrugged. “If she didn’t come to either of us, I don’t know who she’d go to. I, um, I reached out to Ollie,” she admitted. She knew her brother’s absence was almost more of a sore subject to John than it was to her.

Sure enough, he frowned. “What’d he have to say about it?”

“I didn’t actually talk to him. He hasn’t been answering his phone. But I sent him an email. Hopefully he’ll check that sooner than later.”

“Doesn’t do Laurel much good either way. Doesn’t do us much good, either,” John added. “And we gotta decide where we go from here, Thea.”

“How do you mean?” She asked, though she feared she already knew.

“Lance has suspects in mind for the other two vigilantes, and we’re both publicly associated with Laurel. If we keep going out at night, sooner or later we’ll be caught. That’s not something I can risk with my family.”

Thea looked down at her lap. “I know.” The one way she really had to feel close to her brother and to Roy was getting taken away. “What do we do if he does bring us in for questioning? Or charge us?”

John thought for a moment. “He doesn’t have much to get you with. Just your connections to Roy and Laurel. After he tried and failed to nail Oliver, I don’t think the DA would go for anything less than an open and shut case, so just don’t volunteer anything. Let your family’s lawyer handle it.”

“What about you?”

“Lyla’s looking into options. I wasn’t exactly careful about hiding my face before,” he admitted with a grimace. “I may have to make my connection to ARGUS official.”

“I’m sorry, John.” The little she knew about ARGUS, and more so their leader, wasn’t great.

“It is what it is.”

Thea sunk down in the bench a little. “ _God_ , this sucks.”

“You said it.” It at least seemed to pull a smirk from John.

“Hang on,” Thea said as her phone started buzzing. She frowned down at the number. It was local, so maybe not a telemarketer? “Hello?”

_“Thea?”_

“Laurel!” She sat straight up with a shout, John startling and looking around the park. Thea winced. “Sorry. But- but where are you? What’s going on?”

 _“I’m at the gym. Ted’s lending me his phone. I got rid of mine.”_ For being a wanted fugitive, her friend sounded remarkably calm. _“But are you okay? I should have asked that first.”_

Thea scoffed. “I’d say I’m doing way better than you are. What’s the plan? How do we help?”

_“Is John with you?”_

“Yeah. We met up at the park.” Thea placed her hand over the receiver for a moment and said in an undertone to John, “She’s at that gym in the Glades.”

_“Ted thinks my best bet is to get out of the city. He can’t drive right now because of the medications he’s on for pain.”_

“You need us to smuggle you.”

John was following along as best he could with the one-sided conversation. “We should meet her somewhere besides Grant’s. Gives him deniability.”

Thea nodded. “John wants to meet at a separate location. Are you safe to leave the gym?”

 _“Probably not till night. They’ve got my face all over the local stations,”_ Laurel remarked bitterly. _“How’s the alley by Sara’s rooftop?”_

Thea repeated the location, and John agreed. “Okay, so like, I dunno… 11?”

 _“I’ve got nothing else planned,”_ was her friend’s dry reply.

“Okay. We’ll be there.”

_“It should just be John.”_

At the same time, John said, “I can’t pick both of you up, Thea. Getting Laurel out is the priority.”

“But…” She knew it made sense. Of course their first priority needed to be getting Laurel out of immediate danger. But she couldn’t believe she wouldn’t even be able to get a real goodbye with her.

 _“I know, Thea,”_ Laurel said on the phone, reading her thoughts without even really being there. _“But it’ll all work out.”_ She didn’t sound very sure of that.

“I’ll bring her bike in the trunk,” John said. “Tell her the further she can get away from Starling on it, the better.”

Thea repeated that, and she heard Laurel sigh. _“Seems that way.”_

It hurt to hear the defeat and regret in her friend’s tone. Of all of them, Laurel had never really left their city, not for longer than a short ski or beach trip. This was her _home_.

“I’m so sorry, Laurel,” Thea told her.

_“It’s not your fault. I should have known something like this was coming. But I should let you go.”_

“Okay,” Thea agreed reluctantly. She didn’t know what else to say. Goodbye? That she missed her? That if it wouldn’t risk the police storming the Wildcat Gym, she’d race over there right now to give her a hug? Thea was viciously jealous of John for having a van; she’d never bothered to get a car even after her driver’s license suspension had been lifted. She hadn’t known it would make the difference between seeing the woman she thought of as family for the last time and only hearing her voice on the phone.

 _“Be safe, Speedy,”_ Laurel said, and the line went dead.

“This sucks,” she repeated bitterly and felt John’s hand land on her shoulder.

“I know.” It was all he really could say.

\---

Quentin really hated when he was forced to confront the inadequacies of the force. Especially in comparison to the vigilantes.

It had been nearly a full day, and despite everyone in the city knowing his daughter’s face and name now, they hadn’t found her. Deep down, he knew if this were Queen and his team doing the searching, they would have leads or Smoak would’ve pulled off some tech miracle and spotted Laurel in the reflection of a shop window on a CCTV camera or something ridiculous.

It didn’t help that some of his officers didn’t _want_ to find Laurel, or at least didn’t want to face her. Rumors were flying around the precinct about last night and what had actually landed Warner in Starling General despite Quentin’s best efforts to keep all that under wraps. At least until he understood what the hell had happened himself.

He knew Laurel had somehow acquired some kind of necklace that worked similarly to those sonic bombs her sister had carried. But the necklace was clearly in their possession, and she hadn’t been wearing a spare. So how had she done that with her voice? What was going on with his daughter? Was she even more troubled than he’d guessed?

Quentin at least better understood what was driving her in this insanity thanks to what the search of her apartment had turned up. Evidence had flagged a letter found in his daughter’s desk drawer as potentially sensitive information. Quentin read the whole thing.

It was a goddamned love letter, Queen confessing that he couldn’t stay and that it would only hold Laurel back from being a vigilante herself. Sure, there was no mention of the Arrow or the Black Canary in the letter, but Quentin could read between the lines.

_You’re the hero, Laurel._

It was his worst fear realized; Queen had egged his daughter on to becoming this _thing_ , then left her high and dry while he ran off with some other woman. It was the same damn story over and over again with the bastard. Why couldn’t Laurel see that?

The sooner he could get to her, show her just why this whole mad crusade Queen had put her on was a mistake and that she needed help, the better. The search of her apartment had turned up her purse and wallet; without funds, she would have to come forward sooner or later. Unless she had help.

Nyssa al Ghul and Queen’s associates were the prime suspects there, though only his sister and the man’s former bodyguard remained in the city. And while Thea Queen had owned the bar her brother had been operating out of, she had plausible deniability since the older Queen had been the one to have the place refurbished, and Harper had claimed in his confession that she’d had no knowledge of the place. He didn’t have enough concrete evidence to accuse her of being this newest archer, either.

That left John Diggle. He’d never _seen_ the man in action himself, but there had been various reports over the last year or so from criminals brought down by the Arrow that matched his physical description. It would be enough to have him questioned.

But Quentin didn’t want to tip his hand too soon. Laurel was proving extremely wary and adept at hiding out, so immediately rounding up her likely ally would send her further underground. Better to use John Diggle to find his daughter.

Quentin put together a small file and headed out into the bullpen. “Malone!”

One of their newer detectives looked up. “Yes, Captain?”

“Pulling you for an assignment. Come to my office.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, Malone looked nervous as he locked his files up in his desk and followed Quentin back. “Is this assignment for the Black Canary case, sir?”

“It is. There’s a person of interest I need you to look into.” He picked up the file and held it out to Malone. “John Diggle, former US Army. I want him tailed tonight. Don’t stop him or speak to him unless you witness contact with Laurel.”

“Yes, sir.” Malone looked much happier with the assignment now that it had been explained to him. Though a thought seemed to come to him. “And if there is contact?”

“Then call me directly. Do not radio it in.” He didn’t need another fiasco like the previous night. It was apparent that fear of what his daughter had done was already spreading through the ranks.

He’d never meant for people to fear his girl.

“You’re dismissed,” he told Malone, feeling a weariness settle over him. He sank into his desk chair and unlocked the right-hand drawer. Just a small sip to bolster him, see him through till he found Laurel and could figure this whole thing out.

 _Because getting drunk will_ really _help you there_ , said a scathing voice remarkably like hers in his head.

“Shut up,” he grumbled under his breath as he poured himself a glass.

\---

The hours until dark seemed to drag and yet fly past at the same time, Laurel’s nerves only increasing as the light outside waned.

How many ways could this go wrong? What if there were officers waiting outside for the moment she walked out the door? What if they caught her while she was in John’s car? How many of her friends could she end up dragging down with her? She should have just made a run for it last night and tried to hitchhike. She should have known her dad wouldn’t take a step back and realize this wasn’t good for her even if she gave him some time to cool down.

She still didn’t know where she was going, to be perfectly honest. Ted had told her not to share it with any of them so they wouldn’t be able to give her away, so she had no one to really discuss her options with. Sara would have had options. Her sister had probably known all kinds of hideyholes across the country, or their mom would have hidden her in her attic, or she might have even returned to the League to keep hidden and protected. Laurel would die before she pledged fealty to Malcolm, though.

And it hardly mattered what Sara might have done in this situation; it just wouldn’t have happened. Their father would have never done this to her. He’d been proud of Sara, after all. Laurel still wished she knew what the difference was.

Ted came back just before nightfall with a burner phone for her to take with her and be able to coordinate with John.

“I really can’t thank you enough, Ted.”

“There’s no thanks,” he repeated. “Just get yourself out of this hell hole, alright?”

Laurel managed a pained smile. After all these years and the trials they had all been through, everything Oliver had started to turn their home around, and the people living in it could still describe it as hell. He had trusted her and the others to carry on, and once more she was letting down his expectations.

 _It’s no wonder he gave up on you_ , came the familiar thought, one she had trained herself over time to ignore. Laurel put in the call to John instead to let him know she was beginning her trek to their rendezvous point. Then she slipped back out into the night.

She wore a Wildcat Gym hoodie underneath Sara’s jacket to cover the gym’s logo, with the hood up to cover her hair. Her jeans and sneakers, while the same as what she’d been wearing when last seen by the police, weren’t all that distinctive to tip anyone off. So long as she could just get from one end of the Glades to the other without notice, she would be halfway to her new life on the run.

She passed by familiar alleys and storefronts, trying not to think about how it would be the last time she saw them. That she’d never get her favorite black and white milkshake again, or a pizza from Mario’s. She’d never get another chance to drive out to Sara’s grave and talk to her sister. Never race across the rooftops feeling so alive. It just didn’t seem real, that she was leaving all this behind her. Whether they ended up changing the name or not, this place was in her bones.

A scream not far away had Laurel freezing in her tracks. 

“Babe, please!”

“Shut up!”

The second voice allowed her to place them; a man was dragging who she could only assume was his girlfriend by her hair away from their parked car. No one else was around, much less the police.

“You’re gonna give me your phone so I can see who you’re cheating on me with.”

“Ben’s just a friend! You’re hurting me!”

“I told you I don’t want you talking to him anymore!”

Her fists were clenched and she remained rooted to the spot. The smart thing to do would be to move on, not draw attention to herself. It would also be the cruel thing.

She had left Ted’s with more than an hour to spare. She had time.

Laurel extended her staff and flattened her back against the wall as she crept closer, trying to give herself time not to be noticed as she figured out her best plan of attack. The woman was still struggling, and her captor threw her down onto the ground, ripping the purse she held out of her hold. Now she wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire.

“Should’ve just given it to me, bitch.”

“Should have just left her alone, asshole,” Laurel said, stepping out from the shadow of the building.

The man turned around, his mouth falling open. “No fucking way.”

She didn’t bother acknowledging that with a response, instead charging and ducking under the man’s clumsy punch. She dealt a hit to the back of his knees with her staff, then finished it off with a blow to the head, knocking him out.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” the woman was chanting as Laurel picked up her purse and held it out. “You really just — it’s really you.”

“There’s a battered woman’s shelter on Gail Street, five blocks away,” Laurel told her in an undertone. “You should go there now. Get in touch with any emergency contacts or family you trust. Please don’t mention me unless you have to,” she added on a bit of a plea.

“Um, okay,” the woman agreed faintly. She took her purse and started walking, stumbling a little as she turned to look back at Laurel again.

“Go,” she urged, then decided to remove herself as a distraction and from the scene by ducking into the nearest alley and heading for its fire escape. She’d want to travel by rooftop for a while now, just to keep from running across any police that might respond to the scene if either the woman or her hopefully-ex decided to call them. If it was the latter, Laurel knew she’d just added another count of assault to her name, but with the adrenaline coursing through her veins and the lightness in her heart that came from helping someone else, she couldn’t be all that concerned.

Her birds-eye-view of the streets below gave her a pretty decent lay of the land as she kept moving. Off to the right would have been CNRI a little more than two years ago. Now it was an empty paved lot.

Down towards the docks, another unmarked black van sat outside a shipping crate. Laurel veered off course to see better, noticing a number of those same paramilitary guys loading boxes into the back of the van. What was in them? Weapons? Drugs?

The report of a semiautomatic down below her stole her attention. Two men in ski masks were running out of a bank with bags under their arms towards a car with the engine running and a woman already behind the wheel.

“Did you have to shoot the guard?” The getaway driver hollered out her window.

“Who’s gonna care? No more freaking vigilantes!” The man with the gun crowed as he yanked his side door open.

“Think again,” Laurel muttered under her breath. She then drew in her next breath, focusing on that anger and desperation that so far had triggered the scream within her so like the device she had worn a few short weeks. “ _SCREEEEEE!”_

The rear window of the car shattered and the hood started to crumple under the force of the sound waves. She watched as all three would-be robbers scrambled to flee the vehicle.

“Shit!”

“What the _fuck_?”

She couldn’t help a slight smugness as she watched them run, the money left behind. Laurel hurried down to the ground and ducked inside the bank. She found the security guard laying face-down in a pool of his own blood, which stole away her brief amusement. She should’ve tracked down his killer instead.

A siren’s wail had her looking up sharply. It was distant, but coming closer. Laurel rushed out of the bank and away from the scene, wishing she could’ve done more.

What would happen to Starling after she’d gone? _No more freaking vigilantes_ rang in her ears like a condemnation. Without them, the city would only backslide to what it had been before or worse. She was leaving the people she’d fought so long for defenseless, and it just wasn’t fair.

She got out the burner phone to check the time and realized she didn’t have much left to get to their meeting place.

Just as she was about to tuck it away again, the phone started buzzing with a call. Maybe John had gotten there early and was wondering what was keeping her. Laurel backed into an alley to take the call.

“John?”

 _“Hey, I’m at Big Belly Burger,”_ he said, his tone completely casual. _“You want anything?”_

Laurel’s face scrunched up in confusion. Hungry as she was only just realizing she was, why would John have taken a detour unless…? “You’re being watched.” Her father must have put a detail on him just in case. It was a damn good guess.

_“Yeah. I don’t think the number 11’s gonna work anymore. You’re gonna have to pick another one.”_

They couldn’t meet up. Couldn’t go. Anyone would call her a fool for it, but rather than fear or frustration, all Laurel felt was a sweeping sense of relief. “That’s okay. I’m not gonna need it.”

 _“What do you mean?”_ John asked, just a hint of nerves entering his tone as he didn’t even bother to couch the question in the code he was making up.

“I mean I’m not leaving, John. Without one of us watching over the city, it’s going to fall into chaos. I can’t be free somewhere else if I know that’s happening here.” Tonight had shown her just how unable she was to not get involved.

She was never going to save the world if she quit before she’d even tried to save her home.

 _“Don’t do this,”_ he pleaded under his breath.

“Someone has to. Might as well be me. Go back home to your family, and stay safe, John. You should probably delete this number.” Laurel took the phone away from her ear and hung up before he could keep arguing with her and even further risk breaking his cover.

Now that she knew where she stood, the fear of what came next was gone. She should have known it had never been about what Sara or anyone else would do in her place. It was about what _she_ was going to do. There had never been another destination in her mind because there was nowhere else for her other than here. Starling was her home, and she would continue to fight for it no matter how hard her father tried to keep her out of it.

She couldn’t go back to Ted’s. It was too risky, and she doubted he’d be any happier with her decision than John was besides. Laurel was going to have to find somewhere unexpected. Somewhere to regroup that kept her close to the action without being obvious to the police.

Laurel readjusted the hood over her head and slipped off through the night.

\---

“Oh, what are you doing, Laurel?” Felicity muttered under her breath as she scrolled down through yet another article about her friend’s newly-public outings as the Black Canary. She’d been shocked when Thea’s email had come through about Lance’s press conference and couldn’t imagine why Laurel was risking everything by still going out at night. There was dedication to the mission and then there was suicide. Felicity could only be thankful she’d gotten Oliver out before he could try for the latter.

That was the thing with people like Oliver and Laurel; they were either all in or all out, no matter the consequences. She would have hoped John or Thea would have helped Laurel see reason, but she supposed they were both busy trying not to get thrown into the public spotlight themselves. She couldn’t exactly blame them.

The media was speculating about the sounds Laurel could make with her voice, which Felicity knew was thanks to a device Cisco at STAR Labs had made her. One of the stations was claiming eyewitnesses said it was stronger than before. Felicity wondered if Cisco had found time to tweak the choker or if these were just rumors as the legend of Laurel Lance, outlaw vigilante grew.

She would have to simply keep wondering, since if she reached out to ask Cisco, then he would know she knew about what was happening. And if he knew she knew, it wouldn’t take very long for the others to find out she knew. And they’d wonder why Oliver didn’t.

Felicity was so caught up in her thoughts that she missed the front door opening, and she startled as Oliver himself rounded the corner in a hoodie and running shorts. “Hey.”

“Good morning, my love!” She declared as she hastily clicked out of the article. Felicity stood and leaned over the screen to give her boyfriend a kiss. “How was your run?”

“Good. It’s really calming just breathing in the fresh air,” he said, and she gave a short hum of acknowledgement. “How’s work?”

“Oh, fine. You know, it’s a lot of just giving the okay to things that other people are doing. I don’t know why you found it so stressful,” she remarked.

Oliver shrugged. “Never really had a mind for business.”

“Would you happen to have a mind for breakfast?” She asked, her head tilted coyly.

“That I can do.” Oliver didn’t immediately head for the kitchen, however. Instead, he looked down at her work station. “I’m wondering if we should get another one of those cables.”

“And those cables would be…?”

“The ones that hook up to the Internet,” he guessed. “That way we can send Thea and the others some of our trip photos, do a call with them maybe. I know your computer’s only for Palmer Tech stuff, but you brought a laptop, right?”

Felicity tensed. “I don’t think they sell Ethernet cables in Bali.”

Oliver’s face scrunched up. “Why wouldn’t they? They have wired internet.”

“Not everyone does. I mean, we’re staying here specifically so I _can_ remote in for work. And honestly, even if they had Ethernet, there’s no telling if our vacation home could handle two devices. They’d just get really laggy, and then my face would freeze on an awkward frame during a really important conference call and—”

“Okay, okay,” he said, his eyebrows raised in bemusement while he held up a hand to stem the flow of her increasingly panicked babble. “It was just an idea. But if it’s gonna impact your work, we can do without it.”

Felicity smiled. “As long as we’re together, we can do without a lot of things.”

They shared a second, longer kiss, and Oliver finally went to the kitchen, allowing Felicity to sink back into her chair with relief. Crisis averted.

The thing was, their little vacation home _could_ handle two devices. Felicity knew this the same way she also knew there was WiFi available for them to use. Oliver didn’t know these things because she hadn’t told him. It hadn’t been a lie at first, just an omission of fact.

She had started their trip with the idea of it being just the two of them, and so she’d kept the WiFi knowledge to herself to ensure they wouldn’t be interrupted. Now that things were rapidly spiraling out of control in Starling, however, she would have to maintain the ruse for Oliver’s own protection.

Felicity knew him and knew exactly how he would react. There would be guilt. There would be a sense of responsibility on his part, even though out of all of them, Oliver had actually done the most to try and prevent this sort of thing happening; had Laurel listened to him about not becoming a vigilante, her father would have had nothing to expose. 

Most importantly, there would be a desire to return and to fix things, even when they were unfixable. He was forever trying to fix things with Laurel.

If Oliver went back to Starling now, he would be locked up or killed by Lance and his men. Felicity was sure of it. She could _not_ let that happen.

She felt badly for Laurel, of course. She wished none of this had happened. But if the last three years had taught Felicity anything, it was that Starling itself was unfixable, and anyone who tried met a terrible end. Sara, Ray, Roy and now Laurel had all paid their various prices. Oliver had escaped that by the skin of his teeth, and Felicity wasn’t about to chance the freedom or life of the man she loved another time.

No matter what the news said, no matter how many emails Thea sent out to her brother’s account, no matter the grumbling of Palmer Tech’s board members wanting a more ‘present’ CEO, they weren’t ever going to return.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update for you all, and I hope you're excited as we are about to start introducing some of those wider DC Universe elements into the story, as well as some more familiar faces from the Arrowverse itself - as you may be able to guess from the added character tags. I hope you enjoy!

Susan Williams knew she had gotten lucky that spring morning when she had been assigned the press briefing that changed their city forever. It could have been one of their top morning anchors who got the story if it had come in even an hour later, and not just at the tail end of her graveyard shift. But by chance, she was one of the reporters who had broken the story of just who the Black Canary really was, and the shocking family drama behind it all.

Susan knew, however, that that wasn’t enough. If she wanted to succeed in the business, she needed to keep delivering the latest scoop.

So far, Captain Lance hadn’t proved a viable angle. The man was tight-lipped and mean, only saying that he was not going to comment until his daughter had been taken back into custody. So no exclusive there.

That was fine by Susan. It was the easy angle, anyway. If she really wanted to be recognized, she needed to get to the real meat of the story and let the people hear from the woman that still kept up her nightly watch. A sound bite from the Black Canary herself.

It was proving easier said than done. Susan had listened and responded to the police scanner reports night after night, but the vigilante had always cleared out by the time she and her cameraman arrived. Once or twice, Susan _just_ caught a glimpse of Laurel Lance as she disappeared down an alley or over a rooftop. But she wasn’t about to give up just because it was proving difficult. This story, this feud between father and daughter playing out on their streets, wasn’t going to feel complete until they had both perspectives.

What went through a person’s head when they made this kind of choice? What did someone have to be thinking to remain in the one place they were in most danger? What Susan wouldn’t give to talk to someone like that, find out what made them tick.

No one in the press had been allowed to talk to Roy Harper before he’d been killed in prison. This was likely to be her only shot at it, unless her teammates were also found out. And Susan wanted to ask Laurel Lance about Harper all the same.

There had already been one sizable hole in the young man’s confession: for Roy Harper to be the Arrow, he would have had to have saved _himself_ from the man who had called himself the Savior over two years ago. One pundit had put forward the theory that the Hood and the Arrow hadn’t actually been one and the same person, that the original _had_ perished in the Undertaking and that Harper had taken on the vigilante’s suit and identity to continue his mission. But now that Laurel Lance’s identity had been exposed, there was a new metric to measure Harper’s confession against: height.

Quite simply, the young man wasn’t tall enough next to Lance. There was enough documented footage scattered over the years of both the Hood and the Arrow — if they were indeed two people — next to the woman, either in her civilian identity or in her own Black Canary gear, that showed the man had towered over her compared to Harper. So what was the truth? Susan couldn’t air what amounted to a theory without some evidence to back it up. Harper’s confession had had enough detail to show he was definitely involved in the vigilante lifestyle, but had that truly been as the Arrow, or perhaps as a different mask? And if another man had been the Arrow, where was he now? Still providing aid to his partner Black Canary in secret? There had been the rumors at times that the Arrow or Hood had been an admirer of the former ADA and would be unlikely to sit back and watch her in this kind of danger. Someone had to be aiding Laurel Lance’s continual evasion of the police, after all.

The real issue was, who in the Glades wasn’t? The residents had all but buttoned up their lips when it came to talking about the vigilante and her comings and goings. Channel 16 had even ran a story about the increasing number of shops in the neighborhood posting a black square in their windows in a show of support for the woman they saw as their protector. That had put their rival channel up in the ratings to her producer’s ire.

Susan didn’t intend to settle for interviewing a shopkeeper, though. She had her eyes on the prize. Some night out there, sooner or later, she’d find a way to corner the Black Canary and get that exclusive.

And after that? Well, she supposed it all depended on just how armed and dangerous Laurel Lance really was as to whether Susan could successfully argue she’d been forced to let the vigilante go.

\---

In the wake of the betrayal and the losses they’d suffered, losing his job and STAR Labs and adjusting to his new position as the CCPD’s Scientific Advisor and Metahuman Tech Designer, Cisco hadn’t had a lot of spare time to check the news. Even if he had, their local stations were still riding the ratings high of the singularity — even if they kept calling it wrong things like a wormhole or a vortex or even a tornado — and its aftermath to be focused on much else beyond Central City’s limits.

That all changed one afternoon as he stopped by one of Jitters competitors for a caffeine boost. Man, he hoped Jitters would get rebuilt soon, cause he missed their coffee. While waiting in line, he glanced idly at the television before doing a double take.

_Laurel Lance - Metahuman Connection?_

“Wha…” Cisco trailed off as he stared at the screen, grainy CCTV footage playing of Laurel running down a street maskless in jeans and a regular tank top instead of her suit, the spotlight of a news chopper catching her duking it out with her fists and a staff against five gang members, and even a shot from what looked like someone’s cell phone of her Canary Cry making _visible sound waves_ despite Cisco not even seeing the light from the device that should have indicated it was activated. Not Black Canary, just blatantly Laurel Lance. What the hell was going on?

“I can help who’s next,” a voice behind him said, and he turned around, blinking in astonishment at the frankly gorgeous barista behind the counter.

“Uh- Sorry. I actually gotta go. Um, a work thing. My bad,” he stammered, wilting as she gave him a smile he was sure was pitying. Probably for the best he left now before he embarrassed himself even more.

Cisco went out to where he’d parked down the block, getting out his phone on the way and googling Laurel’s name. The sheer number of articles out of Starling had his head spinning. Her dad had done _what_? She was _wanted_? She hadn’t _left_ Starling yet? How had they missed this?

Admittedly, they’d all been dealing with their own troubles, but this was huge. Cisco scrolled through the article that seemed to accompany the news report he had seen on tv, which noted that the device he’d made Laurel was in police custody and that there was as of yet no official explanation for how Black Canary was still achieving her scream. This could be huge.

Cisco sent a group text out to Caitlin, Iris and Joe before he jumped in the car and made the drive out to STAR Labs. Barry hadn’t been responding to texts or calls, but he had a feeling his friend wouldn’t be able to ignore being confronted with this.

“Anybody home?” He called out as he entered the cortex inside the labs.

The pause in which his friend decided whether he was going to come out and talk today was _audible_ , but eventually with a flutter of papers that knocked a few letters stamped with the same _Urgent_ notice off a table, Barry stood in front of him. “What are you doing here, Cisco?” He asked in a tone that implied Cisco shouldn’t be.

“Look, I get you don’t feel up for hanging out or having the whole team around, but this isn’t about us. Starling’s in some serious trouble, and we gotta help Laurel.”

Barry’s eyebrows drew together and down. “What’s wrong with Laurel?”

Cisco passed him his phone, which the speedster used to read through all the relevant information at a breakneck pace.

“Oh, wow…” Barry’s hands went up into his hair after he handed the phone back, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Why would Lance have done this?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, dude.”

Barry was clearly agitated by this latest development, which was far better than the glum apathy he had expressed the last several weeks since the singularity. “They think she’s a meta?”

“It’s a theory. It’s not impossible. That Deathbolt guy Ray brought in wasn’t in Central when the particle accelerator exploded.”

“Yeah, but why would her powers only show up now? I mean, are there some people who are metas who just haven’t realized it yet?”

Cisco tried not to shift guiltily. It wasn’t like he knew for _sure_ that he was a meta. Wells had just said he was. He could’ve just been saying it to mess with him because he was evil.

Just then, Joe and Iris entered the main room of the Labs. “What’s the big emergency?” Joe asked.

“Bear,” said Iris, her face lighting up with a gentle smile as Barry averted his gaze. Cisco could sympathize; when he’d thought he’d gotten Ronnie killed, it had been hard to meet Caitlin’s eyes at first, too.

“Have you guys seen the news about Laurel?”

“You mean Laurel Lance? The lady that’s the Black Canary? Yeah CCPN just picked it up this morning,” Iris explained. Then she frowned. “Wait, you guys already knew she was Black Canary, didn’t you?”

“Don’t look at me,” Joe said quickly. “I only found out when the story broke a week ago. There’s been a lot of talking at the station about how Captain Lance is handling things over there.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Barry asked with his mouth dropped.

“Was it my business to? You know, if somebody spent a little more time down in the bullpen with his coworkers, he might have heard it by now.”

Cisco’s phone buzzed, and he checked it. “Caitlin can’t get away from work. I’m gonna just send her the article.” He did so, then looked up. “So what are we gonna do?”

“About that whole thing? Nothing,” Joe answered.

“What?” Barry said.

At the same time, Cisco yelled out “Come on! She’s our friend. We gotta help!”

“The last thing we need is people associating Barry with some other city’s Public Enemy Number One,” Joe argued. “He helps her, and that means the Flash isn’t a hero anymore. He’s a co-conspirator.”

“But Laurel _isn’t_ Public Enemy Number One, dad,” Iris argued. “Public perception of her seems to be pretty positive. It’s the police and the local city officials who are condemning her.”

“And they’re the people who make the decisions. Look, I’m not saying I want this to be happening to her,” he defended with both hands raised. “I met Lance this spring and told him he should make up with her when he mentioned they had a falling out. But what’s done is done. Now she should either get the hell out of Dodge or turn herself in. It only gets worse for her the longer she holds out.”

“If she’s really a metahuman, that would make her the first meta to be arrested and put into the system,” Iris noted. “I mean, what’s their plan for holding her? Do they have any of the stuff you’ve been making?”

When she looked to him, Cisco shook his head. “Nope, and they’re not getting it. Not if they’re using it on her.” She was one of the good guys! How could her own _dad_ not see that?

“You might not have a choice in that,” Joe warned him. “Departments loan out officers and equipment, and it’s not the techie that decides who gets what.”

“This is just crazy,” Barry said, a miserable frown on his face. Cisco wondered if he was picturing what it would be like if Joe had some kind of psychotic break and started hunting him down. Cause Cisco totally was, and it wasn’t pretty. “I can’t believe I never heard anything from Oliver about this. Or Felicity.”

“They probably knew there was nothing for you to do about it. Nothing any of us can do,” Joe reasoned. “What we can do is work together to put _our_ city to rights. Alright? I don’t want you out there on your own anymore.” He put his hand on Barry’s shoulder, but Barry shrugged it off.

“I’ve been fine on my own. And the truth is, I can’t keep you guys safe any more than I guess I can help Laurel.”

“Bear—”

But he disappeared in another blur and rush of wind. A moment later, Joe’s pager beeped.

He sighed. “I better take this.”

Cisco shared a glum look with Iris before she turned to follow her father, leaving Cisco alone again in the cortex. His shoulders slumped, and he kicked at one of the envelops still sitting on the ground. He’d been so sure they could all rally behind the cause of helping one of their fellow heroes and then use it to show Barry just why the team really did work and that he didn’t have to go the whole Flash thing alone. He should have remembered Joe’s disapproval of all things Team Arrow and that he wouldn’t want Barry taking big risks for someone tied to Oliver.

Man, what the heck _was_ Oliver doing? The only number he had was Felicity’s, and it went straight to voicemail when he dialed it. So much for that avenue.

Cisco was just going to have to find his own way of helping Laurel. He couldn’t just watch the woman he admired and lowkey crushed on have to fend for herself out there, and in regular street clothes no less. Since the police had taken her original suit, he’d just have to do them one better.

Designs and color schemes running through his head, Cisco headed down to his old workroom. Let Joe try and rain on his parade now.

\---

This was a crazy, boneheaded thing for Laurel to be doing. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and ask what the hell she was thinking. He also wanted to offer her a hug in gratitude. But John could do neither of those things, as he hadn’t seen his friend in over a week.

Instead of fleeing the city, Laurel had dug in. John didn’t know where she had to be staying or how she was surviving, but every time he thought about it — and the situation was never far from his thoughts these days — it filled him with a sense of awe. Any day now, he could wake up to headlines announcing her arrest, or worse. Yet Laurel was making this sacrifice play in part for him and for Thea, so they wouldn’t feel the pressure to take on the spike in crime themselves.

With the police more focused on catching someone trying to do good, all kinds of criminals and upstarts were coming out of the woodwork, rejoicing in the open season on vigilantism. If things started getting out of control, he and Lyla were going to have to seriously talk about moving out to the suburbs, no matter how uncomfortable it might be for him in that sort of neighborhood. With his soon to be added paycheck, they’d have the money for a mortgage.

Lyla had moved forward with getting him signed up officially with ARGUS, not a hard sell to Amanda Waller after the odd mission or so he had gone on with her Suicide Squad. John had pictured the woman licking her chops as he’d signed the contract designating himself a full-time agent for the organization. John had reminded himself he was doing this for his wife and daughter, so they wouldn’t have to lose him to prison in case Lance found whatever evidence he needed to lock him away. It could really only be a matter of time.

To protect her from being too associated with him, he hadn’t seen Thea since that day in the park and had only spoken to her by phone the next morning to inform her of Laurel’s choice. To say that the younger woman had been distraught was an understatement.

 _“She doesn’t have any food or money,”_ Thea had said, and from the sounds of it, she had been pacing. _“Where’s she gonna stay? What happens if they catch her?”_

“At this point, it’s less a question of if than when,” he’d pointed out as gently as he could. “And I really don’t know. Laurel’s not someone you can really make change her mind, and she didn’t have any plans to leave home. But this helps you and me.”

_“I don’t care about that.”_

“Yes, you do.” Anyone would. Laurel wouldn’t be doing this if she wasn’t as good as burned already. “The longer the police are occupied with her, the less they have time to figure out who we are. The longer we’re off the street, the less they’ll care besides. So please, Thea, don’t do anything to bring attention to yourself. Or we’re gonna lose both of you.”

 _“I wish we’d never lost anyone,”_ she choked out, and John found himself cursing Oliver in his head once again for not being there for his sister.

“I know. But we can’t change what’s happened.”

John could make some changes going forward, however. With his immunity via ARGUS secured, there was more he could try and do for Laurel. While he wouldn’t risk meeting up with her physically just yet, he could offer her at least something in aid. That was why one afternoon found him driving the van still holding her bike to Oliver’s old emergency bunker, the one he hadn’t known about until after Moira Queen’s death. Everything was covered in layers of dust, but there were rations and a camp bed and a working computer. He left the bike there and made a call to the burner phone he hoped Laurel still had on her.

It took several rings for her to pick up, and he wondered if she’d been debating whether to at all. _“Hello?”_

“It’s me, and I’m not sitting in an interrogation room while the cops track the signal,” he told her. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me where you’ve been holed up till now, but I wanted to offer you somewhere a little more secure.”

 _“I can’t stay with you and your family, John, I’d be putting all of you at risk,”_ Laurel said right away. She sounded tired. Maybe she’d been sleeping when his call came through.

“I don’t mean that. There’s a place Oliver had that Lance never found out about. It’s still unused. Go to 73 Adams Street. There’s a keypad, code 0-4-1-0-8-5. Not sure why.”

There was a beat of silence for a moment before Laurel said quietly, _“That’s my birthday.”_

John winced. “Oh.” He should’ve seen something like that. Oliver would have likely set up his second base when he first came back to Starling, when he’d wanted to still be with his ex-girlfriend.

“Right, well there’s supplies there,” he told her. “Place to sleep. Even a computer if it hasn’t died by now. I left your bike there.”

_“Thank you, John. It means a lot.”_

“It was the least I could do. I don’t know if you’re crazy for doing this or not, but I don’t know what would happen to the city if no one was going out there.”

_“I don’t even want to picture it. But really, you’re taking a big risk helping me like this.”_

“Not so much anymore. You’re talking to ARGUS’s newest recruit,” he admitted. “You know, Lyla and I could see about getting you signed up.”

_“And chipped with one of those bombs? I’m a criminal now, John. I don’t think I’d get to be an agent.”_

He frowned. “Yeah.”

_“I should let you go.”_

“Yeah. Just, one thing I’ve been wondering — I thought your father picked up that STAR Labs device at your apartment. How are you still making that noise?”

Laurel released a weary laugh that was more of a sigh. _“I wish I knew. Bye, John.”_

With that, she hung up. John sighed and started his car up, then headed back home.

That night there was a knock on his front door. He and Lyla exchanged a look, neither one of them expecting visitors. And especially so late.

“Police! Open up!”

“Put Sara in her crib,” John said as he stood. His wife nodded and moved quickly to do so as he approached the door and opened it.

Lance stood on the stoop with an officer on either side and three more behind him. He supposed he ought to be flattered he warranted such a large escort. Not that he was going anywhere. “Evening, officers. Can I help you?”

“John Diggle, you are under arrest for aiding and abetting a vigilante,” Lance replied.

“On what grounds?” John asked, careful to keep his tone calm and his hands visible. He knew right in this moment more than ever, he could not give them a reason to go for the guns on their belts.

“Cut the crap. I know you ran with Harper and all of them,” Lance accused. “I have reports of a man matching your description getting involved in a number of incidents with the vigilantes. Someone is supplying Laurel and keeping her from turning herself in. If you’re smart, you’ll come in quietly and tell us everything you know.”

“Actually, he won’t be.”

John barely suppressed a smirk as he stepped back to allow Lyla to come between him and the officers. She withdrew two booklets from her pocket. “Agent Micheals, ARGUS. My husband is with the agency as well.” She flipped open each booklet as she spoke to show off their badges. “If you want to talk to John at your station, you’ll have to call our director, and I can promise you she won’t take very kindly to someone wasting her time.”

Lance’s face passed through such a wide variety of expressions in such a short time, John worried for a moment they might have broken him. “That’s ridiculous,” he finally snapped. “ARGUS? I’ve never even heard of you people!”

“It’s designed that way. I suggest you and your officers leave before I have to inform my boss a local official is poking his nose into federal matters.”

Lance ground his teeth for a long moment. They all gave a start as Sara suddenly started crying in her room. She likely was confused why she hadn’t been allowed to finish her dinner and where her mom and dad were.

“Excuse me,” said Lyla. She turned and retreated back inside.

John fixed Lance with a look. “Am I free to look after my family now, Captain?”

Lance’s eyes were cast downward, his shoulders hunched. “You are, Agent Diggle,” he said, a sarcastic edge to the title. “Since you won’t help me look after mine. Let’s go,” he ordered his men.

John shook his head as they all turned away. Lance really thought this was still him taking care of Laurel? He was either deluded or drunk or both. It was high time someone said something to him.

So John called out, “I named my baby girl after your youngest.”

Lance froze.

“I was proud to do that to honor her and your family, Captain. But I don’t think Sara would feel much pride in this.”

Slowly, the other man turned back to face him. The look in his eyes was ugly. “You don’t ever tell me what she would have felt again, or director’s permission or no, I will see you in a cell.”

John stared the man down until Lance turned sharply on his heel and barked at his people to keep moving.

He’d known Lance and Laurel’s relationship was beyond saving. But John could only wonder now whether Lance himself was beyond saving as well.

\---

It felt weird putting her own birthday in as a code. But maybe that would help her; her dad would never think she’d use something so obvious if he ever found this place.

Laurel entered to find a small, dusty room with a single table and computer sitting on it that looked old. Boxes of rations were stashed on a low shelf, and the camp bed looked incredibly stiff.

Yet she felt far safer here than she really had at either of the two places she’d been squatting: the basement of Sebastian Blood’s old campaign office and the abandoned juvenile detention center that had once been home to the original Count. Laurel had tried to think outside the box for places to hide, and what was more unexpected of her than repurposing the lairs of old enemies, whether hers or the team’s? She hadn’t wanted to stick in one or the other place for too long in case it made her easy to track. Now she had a third base of operations to duck in and out of.

She had a better, faster way of getting around, too. Laurel found the bike tucked in a side alcove where a few tools and gasoline tanks were also stored. Laurel ran a hand over the seat of the bike, thanking John for his aid and thanking Oliver for being crazy prepared.

Laurel returned to the main room and went for the rations, not really caring about the bland taste. She’d scavenged the stores of the juvenile detention center for supplies already and had been edging dangerously close to considering dumpster diving for discarded food; she’d gladly take bland rations over that.

How quickly things had come to this. Laurel sat heavily on the edge of the cot, resting her feet. She sneezed, the copious amount of dust finally getting to her. The sneeze was unnaturally loud, and she saw the waves of sound leave her mouth for a moment. Something else new about all this.

Laurel knew people were talking about this strange ability that seemed inherent to her now. Even if she could safely give them an answer, she didn’t have one. There had been no explanation given to her for why her voice could now shatter glass and her screams could bring the house down. All she knew was it had saved her from the police that night and continued to save her out there.

Laurel noticed a narrow door at the end of the room, so she went to investigate. Beyond it was a small sink and toilet, and she counted her blessings again. Blood’s basement lacked such facilities, and she never wanted to risk moving around the upper levels much for fear of someone noticing. What it had over the juvenile detention facility was its central location in the Glades, but Oliver’s secondary base combined the benefits of both places.

There was a large, green zip-up hoodie hanging from the doorknob. Laurel took it and held it up to her body. The sleeves were longer than her arms, and it went to about her mid-thigh. She didn’t really care if it was practical. She had something to wear besides the same clothes she’d had on for nearly two weeks.

Laurel did her best to beat the dust out of the hoodie, then stripped down to her underwear and pulled it on, zipping it up. It smelled a little off, the mustiness of the room and the staleness of old sweat mixing together, but when she brought the hood up over her head she caught a whiff of something familiar: Ollie’s aftershave.

Her eyes closed and, slowly, Laurel lifted the cuff of the right sleeve up towards her face, the material brushing her cheek. She could almost pretend a familiar calloused hand would follow… Her fingertips tapped against her skin next, breaking the illusion. Laurel came back to herself and shook her head. What was she doing?

Oliver was caressing another woman’s cheek now, and even if he wasn’t he wouldn’t be touching hers. She could only imagine what he would think of her, hiding from her own father and barely getting enough sleep and enough to eat to keep moving. He’d probably tell her this was exactly why he’d tried to bar her from this life, that he’d known she was a weak link and would only bring the police down on all of them. She almost took the hoodie back off, but the prospect of putting her dirty clothes back on right away was so unappealing she simply slunk back to the cot and laid down on it, knowing she needed to rest before nightfall if she was going to go out again tonight. Laurel sniffled as she lay there and told herself it was the dust bothering her nose.

She woke after a few hours of only somewhat restful sleep and changed back into her clothes to head out. Now that she had her bike, patrols could be done much quicker and in a wider area of the city, but truthfully Laurel’s plan wasn’t a patrol tonight.

Tonight she was finally going to figure out just who those paramilitary guys down at the docks were and where they were taking whatever it was. Now that she could follow them back to their base, she’d be able to hit their operation where it counted.

Laurel headed down to the docks early that night and found an out of the way spot from which she could watch for the van that would load the boxes of whatever was inside and take them away. A part of her wanted to break into the shipping crate and have a look for herself, but then they’d know someone was onto them. So she waited.

Soon enough, the van arrived, and she watched the men efficiently load the van and climb back in. Laurel counted down under her breath as the van pulled away, then started her engine and began to follow at a distance.

It became apparent to her quickly that they were going back towards the Glades, and towards a part of it that was still roped off to most of the public except construction companies. What was going on with that?

Before they reached the site, however, Laurel saw one of the van’s windows roll down and a man with a semiautomatic poke out. “Shit.”

Laurel dodged the initial spray of gunfire and sped up to try and come around to the other side. When that window started to come down, she knew she was going to have to do something different.

Drawing in a breath, Laurel released it in a short burst not unlike the sneeze from this afternoon, the waves of sound hitting the back right tire. It popped, and the van started to skid, first one way then the other as the driver clearly tried to regain control. Laurel pulled to a stop as the van spun and smashed into the side of a pole. By the time the first men were climbing out, she’d dismounted from her bike and was charging them with her staff.

She hit one across the forehead, delivered a blow to the back of a second man’s knees and heard a gun cock. Laurel didn’t freeze this time, ducking and throwing her elbow into the man’s neck.

There came a wail of a police siren, and her opponents scattered, even the ones on the ground being dragged off by their fellows so quickly she was left turning this way and that to try and track them. But they were gone, disappeared into nothing. She smacked her fist against the van. So much for finding out who they were and why they were here.

But she could find out what they were transporting. Laurel smashed the back window with her staff and got the back door open, dragging one of the crates foreword. She used the end of the staff to pry open the lid, then stared in confusion at what lay inside.

“Corn?”

Red and blue lights became visible in her periphery. Laurel was forced to flee to her bike and wheel it around to race off in the opposite direction, but the lights followed. They were giving chase. Just great.

She directed her bike down a narrow alley and shot out the other end just before a second cruiser pulled up to try and block her in. It gave chase, and Laurel was forced to continue weaving through the back roads until the sounds of the sirens were distant to her ears.

She’d return to the juvenile center for the night. She didn’t want to risk giving Ollie’s hideout away so soon.

A paramilitary group, the construction site in the Glades and corn. What did those all mean put-together? What use did a paramilitary group have with corn anyway? It was something she’d have to research, assuming she could get Oliver’s old computer working at the hideout when she eventually returned there. And she’d likely need to do another few nights of general patrols before she hit the paramilitary group again. Let them get comfortable.

Laurel sighed in relief once she pulled her bike behind the detention center, out of sight of anyone despite nothing and no one being around the immediate area. It wouldn’t do for her to get comfortable, though.

Laurel wished she’d thought to grab some of the rations to take with her. She was hungry again.

\---

When the news regarding the situation in Starling City continued to spread to cities beyond its sister in Central, it left one former vigilante with a choice to make. Some would say it was none of her business or that she’d been out of the game for far too long; some would question her sanity considering the last time she had tangled with the enemy of a costumed crusader.

But Barbara Gordon couldn’t help her heart from going out to the woman the news was saying was the Black Canary. She had worried and wondered for years what might have happened had her father learned her identity as Batgirl, after all, and this woman was currently living Barbara’s worst nightmare.

On the run, cut off from most of her equipment and seemingly all of her allies. It was a position no one would want to be in. As of tonight, Dinah Laurel Lance had apparently yet to be captured, and Barbara doubted that would change by the morning. How long could it be expected to last? How long could one woman hold out against an entire police force?

And the question that kept turning itself over in Barbara’s mind was: what if it _wasn’t_ just one woman? What if it became two?

There wasn’t much physical aid she could provide, Barbara would be the first to admit. While she certainly wasn’t as helpless as her chair made many believe, she wasn’t mobile enough to be fleeing through narrow streets to evade the police. She’d be more of a hindrance than a help that way.

But there was plenty that she still knew how to do from home. In his brief review of the Arrow’s operation, Bruce had made note that the vigilante clearly had a support team, one that Miss Lance would’ve likely relied on as well. She had to be missing that right about now.

But how much did she reveal about herself if she did reach out? It wouldn’t be smart to place too much trust in a complete stranger right away, no matter how altruistic Laurel Lance appeared on paper.

If Bruce were around, he’d say she shouldn’t involve herself at all, that it could risk herself, him and any of the others being exposed. But Bruce had dropped off the grid about two months ago; Barbara hadn’t heard from Dick in ages, not since she’d first gotten out of surgery; none of the others had called even before that. That was the problem with all these emotionally stunted kids Bruce collected; not a one of them handled loss well, whether it was of life or use of limb.

It was easy for them to forget in some ways, she supposed, with her all the way across the country in Coast City seeing the best physical therapists and rehab facilities money had to buy. Barbara had completed all the programs now, though, and knew the prognosis: she would never fight again. But if she couldn’t fight herself, she wanted to be a part of it. And offering her aid to Lance was more likely to be accepted without pitying looks or cautioning about her safety.

Barbara knew that as a stranger, however, she would need to bring something significant to the table. Something valuable. So she started digging even further into the situation in Starling. Finding out the police’s strategy for catching the vigilante would be a good olive branch to extend to the Black Canary.

Getting into the police files — the ones that were digital, at least — was child’s play, though she rolled her eyes as she realized that the department’s lack of digitization wasn’t due to a lack of budget or manpower; apparently a heavy-handed hacker had been noticed a few too many times snooping about three years ago, and the department had moved back towards documenting on paper. “Amateur,” Barbara muttered under her breath as she switched gears, entering the communications going between Captain Lance and the members of Starling’s City Council. There was a lot of noise being made about a Mr. Damien Darhk and his conditions for agreeing to invest in the city’s ongoing efforts to rebuild in the wake of three consecutive terror attacks, homegrown and otherwise. There was something about that name that raised a red flag in Barbara’s mind, something that would need checking on.

Even if Bruce wasn’t home, she didn’t see why she couldn’t have a look through some of his files. He hadn’t found a way to block her access as of yet, at any rate, which meant he wasn’t really trying.

It took her some time, but she finally found what she was looking for, and where she found it didn’t mean anything good. Damien Darhk was indeed a person of interest, a contemporary of Ra’s al Ghul and the leader of his own organization called H.I.V.E.. It looked like Starling was getting ready to face its fourth terror attack in a row, and only a single woman with possibly enhanced abilities stood between the people and the newest threat. That wasn’t something Barbara could sit by and watch happen in good conscience, so it looked like she was decided after all.

No more research and sneaking by undetected. It was time to move just the slightest bit out of the shadows she had been trained to stick to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m glad people have been liking the chapters so far. This chapter should answer some of the questions that have started to crop up in the comments regarding certain characters... enjoy!

Liza Warner entered the shooting range and barely paused to flash her ID for the front desk before heading for an open lane. She got her gun ready and loaded with ammo in record time, the same practiced ease she had always had with it. If her doctor could see her now, she’d rub it in his face. See if he still wanted to recommend medical leave for her then.

He’d probably scold her for even being here. But Liza wasn’t about to sit at home with earmuffs on day in and day out like he’d instructed. She needed to keep her aim sharp to maintain her position at the head of her SWAT unit; the first woman to hold that title, and it’d be a cold day in Hell before she gave that up. So she was down at the private gun range where no one would bother asking for some kind of doctor’s note to let her get in some target practice.

Not like any of them at the station knew what had happened to her that night. Liza didn’t even know. The only thing that was certain was Lance’s crazy bitch of a daughter was to blame.

Liza fired the whole clip straight ahead, the first shot landing centermass on the target while the others were more scattered. It was disorienting only hearing the shots through one ear.

Her doctor had told her the eardrum had ruptured and had asked her what she had been doing when it happened. Liza’s answer that she had been attempting to apprehend a person who’d screamed at her had been met with skepticism despite it being the truth, and Liza had realized her doctor didn’t really know what was going on with her hearing or how to treat it. Not when he couldn’t even understand the cause.

Whatever Lance’s daughter was, a metahuman or whatever the news wanted to call it, she had attacked Liza with that scream of hers and left her with only one working ear. If that got spread around too far, she could lose her position on the force. No matter how badly the last few years had acted to disillusion her as to what the people could and couldn’t achieve in this city, being a cop was all she knew, and she didn’t want anyone taking that away from her before she said so. She wasn’t ready to call it quits.

She fired the second clip, each shot landing centermass this time. It just took a little more focus, was all. She still knew what she was doing. Liza grinned in triumph.

The next day, she marched straight up to Captain Lance’s office and knocked on the door. There was a pause, then she thought she heard a distant, “Come in!”

Liza did so, standing in front of her captain’s desk and tilting her head slightly so that her good ear was just a little closer without making it obvious.

“Warner,” she read off his lips to confirm what he’d said.

“Sir. I’m ready to report back to duty.”

“You’ve only been out for a couple weeks,” he pointed out.

“And it’s been plenty of time for me. I haven’t been shot or anything, Captain. I’m healthy and well enough to join the rest of my team out there. I can’t sit at home when they’re facing unknown odds.”

He had to take her back early; SWAT needed her back at the helm to direct them in pursuing Laurel Lance and subduing her. Liza never let a suspect or criminal get away twice, and she didn’t intend to start now.

“I appreciate your drive, Warner, I really do. But—” his voice lowered as he shook his head, the sound not totally focused towards her, and she struggled to read his lips to help her process it. Something with his daughter’s name?

Liza’s hands clenched briefly into fists. “Sir?”

He blew out a breath that she only saw rather than heard. “You were injured in what I can only call a freak accident, and it wouldn’t be good for you or her if that happened again.”

“It won’t, sir,” Liza promised. “If anything, my experience with your— with the Black Canary’s new ability makes me an ideal candidate to lead the strike team.”

He waved a hand in dismissal. “Let’s hold off the strike team talk. I’ve got a couple undercover guys running an op, and I’m gonna see if they’ll get results first. I’m thinking they will. If not… if not, then we’ll talk.”

At the very least, it wasn’t an outright refusal. Liza found herself hoping the undercover unit would fail. “Understood, sir. May I return to my desk?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he said.

Liza nodded and left the office, relief at having cleared the initial hurdle. She could still do this. Her injury wasn’t going to hold her back from doing what she’d been born to do.

She would restore order to their streets and get back at the woman that cost her her hearing in one ear. Two birds with one stone, but truthfully there was only one bird Liza was hunting to kill these days.

—

As much as Laurel was itching to check out that construction site and see what was really happening with that paramilitary group, she knew she needed patience. And with only one of her around at night, it wouldn’t be good for her to fall off doing patrols completely. There was far too much that went on in this city at night.

Laurel had broken up a couple Vertigo deals and made clear the dealers shouldn’t get too comfortable on their chosen corners, halted an armed robbery of a convenience store and escorted a couple of young women who had been at that convenience store to the nearest bus stop when they had seemed too frightened to leave on their own.

“Take something you need, please,” the store owner had offered as she’d been getting ready to lead the women out.

Laurel had tried to refuse, but the truth was that she’d be stupid to reject any kind of help now. Laurel had grabbed a pack of floss off one of the end-caps. The juvenile detention center had had prepackaged toothbrushes in its stockroom, but not that. And it was less embarrassing and easier to carry than a box of tampons. Later in the month was going to  _ suck _ , assuming she even had a period with the poor nutrition and running herself ragged that she was doing.

Now Laurel sped down the street on her bike, looking for anything else that needed intervention, anyone in need of aid. Some shouting and smoke rising above the rooftops caught her attention a street over, so Laurel cut down a side street and turned the corner to investigate.

A beat-up car parked by the curb had been even further trashed and was burning. About twenty feet from it, a number of men were beating on one man who was curled in a ball to avoid the worst of the blows. Laurel cut the engine on her bike and threw the kickstand on, but she paused just as she started to swing her leg off the seat.

Something wasn’t right.

The moves the men were employing seemed a little too timed and coordinated. They all wore the same type of boot with a steel toe — even the man on the ground. And as she looked closer, Laurel noticed the outline of something that looked like a badge in the back pocket of one of the attackers.

It was a setup.

Just as she realized this, the man on the ground sprang up and pulled his gun along with his fellows. “SCPD! Stand down, Miss Lance!”

Laurel looked behind her, noticing two officers with their own guns standing on two roofs looking down on the street. She’d be shot before she could even start the bike’s engine. What the hell was she going to do?

Before she could decide that, with a suddenness that left her blinking in astonishment, every single shop storefront lit up and began blaring their alarms at different volumes and pitches, creating a cacophony of sound that had the officers that had been intent on bringing her in turning this was and that, trying to spot the disturbance’s source. Some of them even looked afraid.

Laurel wasted no more time, gunning the engine and wheeling around to flee back the way she had come. Shouts followed, but Laurel was confident she had left them all behind considering they all would have to get to their vehicles first to give chase, wherever those vehicles had been hidden.

What had even caused that? She didn’t think it could’ve been her, but did she even fully know what she was capable of? It wasn’t as if she’d known her own voice could be a weapon until a few weeks ago. And she’d been just as desperate, and angry, tonight as that night.

The police were so intent on capturing her that they’d rather waste time and resources pretending to commit crimes than stop real ones. If anything convinced her that she couldn’t just give up and walk away, it was that. What would the city become without one of them to fight the real problems plaguing its most vulnerable citizens? If there was to be no justice within the law, despite her father’s old saying to the contrary, she would have to provide it outside it.

A part of Laurel did wonder what her colleagues at the DA’s office had to be thinking about her. But she wondered even more what Joanna might think. The truth was, thanks to her rocky first year, Laurel had never quite made as close of friendships at city hall as she’d once had with her old classmate and second chair. She hadn’t seen Joanna in a while, though, and likely never would again. There were a lot of people she could never see again, not without risking their freedom along with hers.

She entered Oliver’s hideout intending to head straight for the cot. But as she passed by the old computer, it winked on.

Laurel paused, eyeing it warily. She had yet to actually see if the thing even worked anymore. So how and why had it turned on?

All that showed was a black screen and a symbol in a green-blue hue. It almost looked like a mask or a face in abstract. What was this?

_ “Hello, Laurel,” _ a voice emanated from the speakers, distorted the way Oliver had used to do. Laurel was fairly confident that the pitch of this voice was that of a woman’s, though.

“Hello?” She said back hesitantly. “Is this a recording or—”

_ “No, I can hear you. And see you,” _ the voice added, almost as an afterthought.  _ “I’ve had my eye on things in Starling ever since your father revealed your secret to the world. It’s a good thing, too, since I was able to set off all those storefront alarms and give you a chance to escape.” _

So that’s what that had been. If this person was even telling the truth. If they weren’t, though, how would they even know about what had happened to the stores in the first place? Laurel crossed her arms. “Why can’t I see you? Who are you?”

_ “You can call me Oracle,” _ the distorted voice spoke.

“Okay,” Laurel sighed. “Listen, I’ve done the whole ‘blind trust in a vigilante’ thing before. Considering I’ve got nothing to hide, do you think we could maybe even the playing field here?”

_ “I may know who you are, Laurel, but I’m still learning what kind of person you are.” _

“Not one that turns a fellow traveler in,” she replied.

_ “It wouldn’t seem that way, no. I’m still going to need to ask you to put your trust in me, at least for a little while. You’ve made a dangerous enemy, and if he were to learn  _ my _ identity, I’m not as able to hide or fight back as you are.” _

“My father?” Laurel guessed.

_ “The man he currently answers to, even if he doesn’t yet realize what their relationship is. Damien Darhk.” _

The screen suddenly changed, showing what looked like a brief news clip on mute from Channel 52. Reporters were trying to get the attention of her father and several members of city council, but the image paused as a man with white hair slipped out of the conference room.

“That’s him?” She guessed.

_ “Yes. You’ve met a contemporary of his, I think. Ra’s al Ghul.” _

A shudder went down Laurel’s spine. The League. Just when she’d thought they were at least finished with them. “What’s he doing here?”

_ “I’m still figuring out his ultimate goal, but for now he seems intent on ingratiating himself with your city’s policymakers and law enforcers. Likely so they’ll turn a blind eye to his true goal or be suitably threatened by him when he reveals his true colors. For now, he’s content to present himself as a White Knight investor.” _

Investor? Laurel’s mind went back to that night in her apartment, what her dad had said about investors and the city. She’d thought it was uncharacteristic of him, and now she knew why. This man, Damien Darhk, had put those words in her father’s mouth. He’d probably even planted the thought in her father’s head to come down on her like this. Laurel’s fists clenched, and she felt her eyes sting.

_ “Are you alright?” _

“Fine,” she bit out, turning her face away from the screen to take a moment and get a hold on her emotions. She didn’t want to cry in front of her mysterious possible ally. “You said ‘your city’. You’re not from Starling?”

_ “I’m remoting in. It’s the best I could do for now,” _ Oracle replied.  _ “I’ve noticed that you alternate between a few different hideouts, and that’s good. Since this is the only one with a computer, it’s the only place we’ll be able to talk. At least until I can send you a comm link.” _

“I don’t really have a mailing address right now,” Laurel pointed out wryly.

_ “Very true. Is there someone you trust who could hang onto it for you until you had a chance to grab it?” _

She really didn’t want to keep relying on him just in case, but Laurel knew he was the best protected at this point. Easiest to get to, too, since Thea’s loft was on the top floor of her building. “John Diggle. You need his address?”

_ “I can find it.” _

Right. Hackers. Laurel felt lucky she’d yet to come across one that was her enemy. Even if she was hesitant to count Oracle as a friend just yet.

_ “I’ll let you get some sleep,” _ Oracle continued.  _ “Fighting a one-woman crusade against crime and corruption is tiring work. But just know you’re not alone now, Laurel.” _

“Thank you,” Laurel said quietly after a pause. Despite herself the words from a stranger meant more to her than they probably should.

_ “Goodnight, Canary.” _ The screen went dark again.

Laurel released a sigh and finally dropped down onto the cot, though her mind was now awake and abuzz with thoughts. Who really was Oracle? Why had she reached out? Was it possible that, like this Damien Darhk, she too had ulterior motives Laurel had yet to see, that she might become ensnared in the same way as her father?

She couldn’t forgive him. Twice now he had let treacherous men into his confidence and listened to their poisonous words over hers. He had broken with her months ago, and Laurel knew she could only accept that it would never be the same between them.

It wasn’t even just for her to forgive. Her father’s actions had cost so much to so many: Oliver, forced to give up being the Arrow and to watch his own protege take the fall; Roy, who could never come home or be with the family he had built for himself after growing up alone; John, stuck working under Amanda Waller full-time; and Thea, left so completely alone.

While she would always prefer her young friend to be safe, Laurel also knew Thea did not handle isolation well. She tended to fall under the influence of anyone who promised a kind word and a listening ear despite their real intentions, whether that was her junkie friends in high school or her murderous father. If only Oliver had taken Thea with him on his and Felicity’s trip out of the city or made some kind of arrangement to check in every so often or meet up somewhere if Starling truly made him that unhappy these days. Laurel was sure that Thea could have used a vacation for her health as well, even if she had miraculously recovered from the wound Ra’s had dealt her last spring.

Sure, it might have been awkward in the initial stages of Oliver and Felicity’s new romance to have family along, but any woman who dated him would have to realize they’d be spending a lot of time with his sister. Laurel still remembered summers long past when she had been invited to the Queen’s beach house and spent more time building sandcastles with Ollie and little Speedy than she did stealing private moments with her boyfriend. Had that really been her life only ten or so years ago?

She was getting lost in the memories again. Laurel rolled over and resolved to get some sleep. Someone new had come to her city seeking to do it harm, and she needed to be ready to face him.

The past was the past; no amount of longing in the world would bring it back.

—

Oliver ran down the same path he had taken every day since they had come to Bali. His pace was closer to leisurely than pushing his limits, as it had been growing for a while he could admit. But there was really no reason to push himself; in fact, it seemed ridiculous to do so. The hard-fought years of his life were behind him at last, and he could live instead of just survive. He had gone from being trapped on a hellish island to living in an island paradise. He had gone from disappointing Felicity and making her doubt him to putting her first and having a relationship with her. All these things would have been unthinkable to him a year ago.

Oliver turned a corner, and his pace slowed a little as he noticed a man standing slightly off the path and looking down the hill. He wore a navy windbreaker with the hood up, and there was something familiar about it. Oliver shook his head and was about to push on, deciding not to bother another tourist, when the man spoke.

“Excuse me.”

Oliver froze, a chill sweeping over him at the sound of that voice. “Dad?”

Robert Queen turned around and took down his hood. His beard and eyes and voice were all exactly as Oliver remembered, but the expression he wore was nearly blank as he asked, “Can you help me? I’m looking for my son.”

“Dad, it’s- it’s me,” Oliver said, stepping towards him. “I’m your son.”

But his father shook his head. “You’re not Oliver. My boy wouldn’t hide away like this. He wouldn’t leave his home and his family. I raised him better than that.”

He’d never been hit as a child, but Oliver felt the words as if they had been a physical slap across his face.

“I’m not hiding. I’m living my life.”

“You’re wasting my sacrifice,” his father said, a deep frown set in his features.

“I never asked you to make that sacrifice!”

“You never asked me, either.”

Oliver turned. Behind him stood Roy, the Arrow suit hanging off him, too big in the shoulders and bunched up at the ankles.

“You think I wouldn’t be out there with the others if I still could? With  _ Thea _ ? I thought that’s what you taught me,” his protege accused. “It’s what I believed in.”

“How can I still be the Arrow if the Arrow’s dead, Roy?” Oliver asked him. “How could I keep going on? Felicity and I, we had to leave. I- we couldn’t be happy there. Couldn’t be at peace.”

“But are you at peace, Oliver?” His father asked, and he felt his hand grip onto his shoulder and force him back around to meet his eyes. “Have you made peace with this selfishness? Because if you haven’t, this is not going to end well for you.”

Rolling thunder echoed across the suddenly pitch-black sky as Oliver jerked back—

His head hit the headboard with a  _ thump _ , and Oliver struggled blindly with the sheets for a moment as they tangled and constricted around him. “Dad—”

“Oliver, it’s the middle of the night,” Felicity mumbled with her face in her pillow.

He sat up, working to get his breath back as his heart rate slowed. “Sorry. Just- just a dream.”

“Mm-hm.” She reached out blindly and patted his chest in comfort. “Do you think you could pick up earplugs at the store tomorrow? I have a lot of meetings this week, and I have to be awake for them.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Listen I’m gonna get some water. You can go back to sleep.”

“Mmkay, love you.”

“Love you, too,” Oliver said back, though her breathing was already evening out in a way that made him think she probably hadn’t heard. Oliver swung his legs off the bed and stood, leaving their room and heading out to the little kitchen for a glass and water.

As he sipped it, Oliver couldn’t help letting his mind go back to the dream he had just had. Part of him didn’t want to call it a dream, even if nothing remotely as bad as nightmares past had happened to him. This had left him just as shaken as those nightmares, if not more so. It had been a long time since his father had visited him in disappointment.

He set the glass down and dropped his head in his hands, dragging them through his hair. What was his subconscious trying to say to him? Was he not as happy as he had thought? Was it the city? Was it the lack of contact with the others? Had he perhaps been wondering all this time what Roy must be thinking out there in his new life and exiled from their home?

He didn’t want to think that he was unhappy. If Oliver could not be happy here, with the woman who he had wanted to be with for so long and free of the stresses and responsibilities of being the Arrow, where and when could he possibly expect to be happy?

He could admit, perhaps, that there were things he missed about home. The people, primarily. If he just had a reliable way to reach Thea whenever he felt the urge to talk to his little sister and check on her. If he had some news to know how the team was doing in his absence. He didn’t see why they would want or need him still; after everything he had been forced to do with the League, he couldn’t have expected to keep their respect or their trust in the field, even if it had been possible for him to keep being the Arrow. But if he could just reassure himself that John had things well under control, that Thea had acclimated to the life of a vigilante, that Laurel had continued her training and was safe just as she kept the streets safe. Then he could be content.

He was restless, was likely what it was. He was used to feeling utterly exhausted at the end of a day so that he dropped off into sleep without his mind buzzing away like it must have been tonight. Oliver did his best to keep himself occupied here at the house in Bali, but there were only so many ways he could practice cooking chicken. Maybe he did just need to get back into a more intense fitness regimen. Felicity had made one or two comments about missing the salmon ladder back in the base. There wasn’t really space for something like that in the vacation home, but he could put some kind of exercise area in.

Though maybe that should wait for whenever they made the decision of where to go after Bali. Much as Oliver enjoyed the sights and the climate and the food, he had spent so many years abroad already. When it came time for him and Felicity to put down roots, to start a family, he wanted to be somewhere a little closer to home. Whether that was in Starling or somewhere else along the West Coast, he’d be happy to talk about with her. Felicity had yet to bring up moving, and he thought she was simply enjoying the luxury of a vacation that she simply wouldn’t have even dreamed of when she was growing up in Vegas with a single mother. He didn’t want to bring an early end to that experience before she was ready, but he hoped to be back in the States and settled somewhere in time to host Thanksgiving by the latest. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d done something so  _ normal _ . He hoped the others would be able to get time off to be there, if they still wanted.

Everything was fine. The city was fine. He was sure if it wasn’t, if things had gotten truly dire, that Felicity would have heard from the board or her employees about it and said something. His dream hadn’t been any kind of warning, no matter his father’s words about this not ending well.

Was it selfish to try and be happy? Would his father not want him to try?

Oliver sighed and stuffed his feet into his shoes, knowing he needed to feel tired before he would get any further rest tonight. Despite himself, he checked for a familiar face around every corner of his run.

—

Ray wasn’t sure what was worse, in a way. The days upon days where he was left completely alone, or the times when he had someone to talk to. If it were anyone else but his captor, he would appreciate those times a little more, but with the choice being between Damien Darhk and solitude, he thought he preferred the company of his own thoughts.

“Well, well, Mr. Palmer. I think I finally understand why you and so many like you have taken to vigilantism in this city,” Darhk began after he had entered the room and drawn up to the case Ray was held in. The man had to stand incredibly close in order to understand him, and Ray resisted the urge to back up. He didn’t have far to go, and it would look like he was intimidated rather than simply disgusted. Darhk threw his arms wide in a gesture he probably thought was comical. He was always putting a show on, and Ray wondered just who hadn’t paid enough attention to little Damien when he was a child. “Your police are inept!”

“I would have thought you’d be pleased,” Ray remarked.

“Oh, I was, believe me. At least until it came around and started to cause  _ me _ trouble. How hard is it to catch one Canary bird when everyone in the city knows her name? But time and again, Miss Lance has given her father’s men the slip. It’s embarrassing, really.”

Ray’s heart gave a little lurch. Darhk knew Laurel’s identity? The whole city knew it? What had happened? Ray has been very careful to avoid disclosing any identities to his captor, so he knew the leak must have come from elsewhere.

“The other night, she attacked some of my men,” Darhk continued. “No idea why. All they’ve been doing for me so far is delivering my shipments to me. There’s far more violent actors in this city to concern herself with.

“The thing is, I don’t really need a vigilante nosing about my business. Fortunately her other partners have called it quits, but less fortunately that leaves me with nothing to threaten her with. No additional source of information as to her motives, either.”

Ray’s eyebrows raised, but he remained silent. Privately, he thought the obvious answer would have been to threaten Captain Lance, but Darhk seemed to think that wouldn’t put pressure on Laurel. If the police were truly after her, had something happened between the father and daughter?

“And  _ then _ it occurred to me that I  _ can _ talk to one of Miss Lance’s former teammates.” A finger was pointed in his direction. “You. So, Mr. Palmer, everything you know about Laurel Lance, if you’d be so kind.” Darhk stood there expectantly, and Ray shook his head. Did the man really think he had any leverage here? He’d taken away Ray’s freedom and ability to try and troubleshoot his current predicament. About all that was left was his life, and most everyone didn’t think he was even still alive.

“Honestly, there’s not much I know at all. I met Laurel maybe a handful of times, had the chance to work with her in the field even less.”

“Come now, Mr. Palmer. That scream of hers. How does she do it?”

“I thought most people recognized it was a device worn around her neck—”

“Wrong. The police took that as evidence. How does she really do it?”

Ray shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought that was how.”

Darhk sighed in annoyance. “What about her allies?”

“The Arrow’s dead and I’m here,” Ray said.

“And the ones my sources say were a man in a helmet and the one who went by — oh, what was it? — Speedy?”

Ray blinked. “I don’t even know who those are.” He could venture a guess, perhaps, but those descriptions and code names were all new to him. “Unless you meant the Flash. Did you mean the Flash?”

Darhk seemed to realize he was speaking the truth about that, at least. “Well, this is frustrating. You ought to be more careful, Mr. Palmer. You’re beginning to outlive your usefulness, amusing as your predicament is to me.” The man left him then, and Ray was glad for it. He had a lot to think about.

Laurel had been exposed as the Black Canary and was still operating. What had happened to the other members of the team Oliver had led? And what would happen to Laurel if she were caught? Would she be sent to jail like Roy or wind up a captive of Darhk’s like he currently was?

Ray didn’t see how he could do much to help his brief ally from here. Felicity had yet to respond to the encrypted messages he was sending to the server in the CEO suite. Either his signal wasn’t getting through or she had yet to notice his pleas for help. Maybe it was time to try something new. He was less familiar with their servers, but if he could try to reach out to the folks at STAR Labs, maybe they could raise the alarm with someone. Once free, he could tell the others what he knew about Darhk and make sure Laurel wasn’t fighting the battle for their city all on her own. He didn’t doubt she’d keep raising hell whether or not she received aid; Laurel was the sort of person who would stick her neck out for anyone, whether they were a random citizen, a public official or her old flame. You had to admire that about her, Ray could admit. She was a hero just the way as Oliver had once described to him. A hero in the way Ray hoped to continue to be someday.

No matter how long it took, he’d see himself out of this mess he’d made, a little wiser and a whole lot more knowledgeable about quantum physics for it.

—

If she were to be truthful with herself, it had been some time since Nyssa had wanted to be within the walls of Nanda Parbat. Never would she have thought that to be the case even a year ago. The fortress had always been her home, the one place she belonged. Yet so much had changed.

She had lost her love permanently and violently; she had been betrayed by her own father and bound to his chosen heir like she were some form of his property; she had seen the man who orchestrated her Beloved’s murder take the title of Ra’s for his own; and yet, most important of all, she had made a friend.

More than anything else, Nyssa longed for the nights she had spent instructing Laurel in new forms of martial arts and lessons in reading her opponents, the American restaurants with their horribly unhealthy food, and the smiles that had come easily, unbelievably to her face amidst all the turmoil her life had been going through. Had Nyssa not still been bound by the League’s laws at the end of her father’s ill-fated attack against Starling City, she might never have left there.

Yet here in Nanda Parbat she remained. Little better than a prisoner, though for now at least the Magician allowed her the freedom to walk the halls of her home. 

She had not been sent on a mission since they had all returned to Nanda Parbat, and she knew Merlyn did not trust her away from his watchful eyes where she might see an opportunity to rally those dissatisfied with his appointment to her side. They both knew those elements existed among them; not all had forgotten the original mission to find and punish  _ Al Sa-Her _ for his breaking of their sacred code. And Nyssa did long to see Merlyn unseated, so it was a rational fear for him to have.

One of her assigned duties — though they were little more than formality — was to keep watch over the main entrance to Nanda Parbat and to answer any reports from the lookouts stationed along the mountain range. She was to be the last line of defense should anyone be foolish enough to attempt a frontal assault on the fortress, and part of Nyssa wished someone would try to at least afford her a worthy challenge.

Today, it seemed, her wish would not be granted; yet something did appear to have happened as she heard the sounds of struggle.  _ Al-Riyh _ , one of the lookouts she had authority over, came through the pass with a person. He had thrown a black sack over the head, but Nyssa felt reasonably certain that the slight figure was a woman.

“ _ Al-Riyh _ , who have you found?” She asked. In years past, she might have asked  _ what _ , but her time out in the real world had taught her all people ought to be treated with respect, and not just those she was loyal to. Laurel had taught her that more than anyone.

“A trespasser. She demanded to speak to Ra’s himself,” the man reported.

“I’m  _ not _ some trespasser!” The girl snarled, ripping herself free from  _ Al-Riyh _ ’s grasp and pulling the bag off her head. Nyssa had already recognized her voice however, her eyes widening to see Thea Queen standing before her. “I’m the Daughter of the Demon, and I need to speak to my father.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a few developments in this chapter I am hoping you all like. Thanks for reading!

Thea hadn’t been able to keep sitting at home with no way to help and no one to talk to. Not that she wanted to talk to her biological father all that much as an alternative, but she knew that he could do something that she, as yet, had been unsuccessful at: find Ollie.

Thea had tried emails, phone calls, Skyping, calling out to every ski lodge and beach house and resort she could find a number for. None of Oliver or Felicity’s devices had been picked up, and none of the management at any of the places she reached out to had been able to connect them. She’d even gone so far as to try requesting an appointment with Felicity at Palmer Tech, but had been told the CEO was extremely busy and was only taking appointments and meetings pertaining to the running of the company. Thea had very nearly demanded what made a woman too busy to tell her where the hell her damn brother was and why he wasn’t answering his phone, but had reined it in. In the end, it wasn’t the personal assistant’s fault that Oliver and Felicity weren’t responding to her.

Thea had briefly considered checking Lian Yu to see if the pair of lovebirds were holed up there, but had dismissed the thought immediately since she knew for a fact the island didn’t have WiFi to remote in to work with. Trying to picture Felicity roughing it out there was also something to laugh at, and she had to suppress her smirk even now. It wouldn’t look all that great to Nyssa if she seemed to be gloating, considering she’d just claimed the title the other woman once held.

Nyssa stared at her for a moment long enough that Thea wondered if the woman was trying to decide whether to deny her claim or was just in a daze. Eventually, though, Nyssa came out of it. “She is who she states herself to be.  _ Al-Riyh _ , you will apologize.”

The man who had grabbed her in the mountains dropped to one knee and said something in Arabic Thea could only assume meant sorry. “Uh, that’s fine. Can I just talk to my dad?”

“He is meeting with a number of his followers who have returned from assignments. Until he has finished, you may wait inside.” Nyssa turned and led her into the fortress, Thea following with a growing sense of curiosity in her wake.

She knew she had been to Nanda Parbat once before, that she had been healed here in exchange for Oliver becoming the old Ra’s heir. But try as she might, the memories of it had yet to come for her. So it was with fresh eyes that she looked upon the stone walls carved into rock and the torches in their brackets. They entered a larger room that Thea guessed counted as the throne room judging by the chair that sat on a dais.

“I will retrieve your father.  _ Al-Riyh _ , wait here with her,” Nyssa instructed. She left down a hallway, and a silence settled over Thea and the man that had attacked her.

Thea slowly wandered the circumference of the room, ending up by that same hallway. She was itching to know more about the place that had made her father who he was, the place Ollie had been stuck in after making the deal to save her life. Thea stepped into the hallway, and was not surprised when her assigned guard shadowed it with his own step.

“We are to wait here.”

“You are, maybe. Relax, I’m just having a look around.” There was a bubbling noise that caught her interest in one of the first rooms off the hallway, and Thea wondered if Nanda Parbat had its own water source to help sustain the League. What she found instead was something that looked more like a hot tub. Was this the infamous Pit?

“You may look, however none but the Priestess and the Demon Head may touch the waters of Lazarus,”  _ Al-Riyh _ told her.

“That’s the healing spring, right?”

“Yes. It repairs any injury, slows the affect of aging and even reverses death itself.”

“Reverses death,” Thea murmured, her eyes on the spring still. There was something about it that was so captivating…

“Thea.”

She turned. Her father stood in the archway with Nyssa hovering just over his shoulder.

Thea affected a casual shrug. “Oh, hey dad.”

“Come away from there,” he requested. Thea rolled her eyes but did as asked, following him back to that main room. She couldn’t really ask him for a favor if he was ticked off, after all.

“Not that I am unhappy to see you, but what brings you to Nanda Parbat?”

“You seen any of the news?”

“I’ve had an eye kept on it. I am sorry about what’s happened to Laurel,” he said, and Thea hated that he was such a good actor because she honestly couldn’t tell if he meant it or not. 

Beside him, Nyssa gave a sharp flinch, her eyes widening for the briefest of moments. Clearly, not everyone in Nanda Parbat had been kept appraised of events.

“It’s good that you’ve left there,” her father continued.

“I’m not staying here,” she countered. “I just needed you to do something for me.”

Her father raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Find Ollie. He left on his trip with Felicity, and I haven’t heard anything from him in months. I tried looking on my own, but I haven’t gotten anywhere. I figure if someone can find him, it’s probably the people that track other people down for their job or calling or whatever this is.”

“And when your chronically absent brother is located I assume there is a message you would like passed on?”

“Yeah. To check his email and that we gotta figure out how to help Laurel.”

Thea frowned as her father pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. “There’s very little you or Oliver can do for Laurel at this point. If she’s smart, she’ll disappear from Starling City, learn to live and to travel inconspicuously. Her father has ensured she can’t enjoy the life she once did, much as he stripped the Arrow away from Oliver.”

“Captain Lance only did that stuff because I killed Sara,” Thea snapped, and she watched him hang his head for a moment. Nyssa’s gaze remained lowered for longer. “So do you think maybe, since  _ you’re _ the one who made me do that, you could do me a favor and help me find my brother?”

“And what if Oliver tells you what I’ve told you? That there’s nothing to be done?”

“Then I guess I’ll know that the only family I have left is out there fighting in the streets, and I’ll go join her. To hell with both of you,” she snarked, turning on her heel.

She got two strides before he called out, “Thea, you may think that you’re doing the right thing, but all you will accomplish is getting yourself and your brother into trouble. It won’t fix anything.”

“Yeah, well I’m pretty sure nothing short of Sara not being dead would fix it,” she replied. “Which, again, your doing. So will you just… just help me find Ollie at least? It’s kind of freaking me out he hasn’t made any contact.” Thea hated playing the pathetic card, but she knew it was what he liked to hear best; it made him think he had power over her and could convince her was somehow still a benevolent figure in her life.

Sure enough, the harder lines in his face smoothed out. “I will have him located and informed you’re worried.”

“Thanks,” she forced herself to say. “I guess let me know how that goes.”

She turned to leave again, and her father’s voice again stopped her. “You might at least consider remaining here away from Captain Lance.”

“Nah, he can’t touch me, Jean said so herself.” Not that Jean knew she really had been one of Laurel’s vigilante partners. “It’d just look more suspicious if I disappeared, wouldn’t it?”

She glanced back a final time to see her father’s resigned look and Nyssa’s contemplative expression before Thea left the fortress behind. Technically she had gotten what she wanted — or been told she would get what she wanted eventually — yet she wasn’t satisfied.

What if Oliver didn’t want to do anything to help Laurel? Thea didn’t want to believe it of him, but she also thought he was done running away like this and falling out of touch. If he did decide to do something, what would it be and would it even work? What could they really hope to fix when Lance was being guided by his grief?

_ Nothing short of Sara…  _ the thought had stuck in her mind, and as Thea reached the edge of the valley the entrance to Nanda Parbat sat in, she couldn’t help one last look at the fortress itself, thinking of what she had been told was inside. The Lazarus Pit, what it was and what it could do.

It had to work, didn’t it? Ra’s had been some ancient guy from hundreds of years ago, and Thea probably had been healed by it since it wasn’t like the League had a world-class hospital they were hiding. If two of the things  _ Al-Riyh _ had said were true, wouldn’t the third thing be?

If Sara were here, she would tell her father he was being crazy and unfair to Laurel. Lance wouldn’t even have a reason to be upset. Thea wouldn’t be a killer anymore, not if the person she’d been forced to kill were alive again.

She would return to Starling and see if anything had changed regarding Laurel’s situation. If not, she’d start planning. She’d need to find time to get out to Sara’s grave alone and get the casket transported, figure out how to sneak it into the fortress. From there, the rest would be easy enough.

This whole mess had been set into motion because of the mistake she had made in trusting her father. Now Thea would use him the same way he’d used her, only this time to make things right.

—

Damien was not one to let a single setback keep him down for long. He wouldn’t have made much of a success of himself these last few centuries if he was. So just because Mr. Palmer had had precious little information and refused to cooperate didn’t mean he was through trying to solve his little birdie problem.

He was confident he could more than handle the young woman should she attempt a direct attack on his operations, but Damien would prefer handling this quickly and quietly before it came to that. No sense showing off everything he was capable of to his enemies before he needed to. If he could find the right pressure point, he might not even need to raise a hand against Miss Lance physically. Everyone was willing to cooperate for the right price, after all. For the annoyingly incorruptible types like the Black Canary, that price just tended to be her loved ones being kept alive rather than money.

Reports were conflicting about her sister, but Damien believed the woman might just be dead, so no luck there. She had a mother living in Central City, but the woman appeared to be estranged from her daughter for the most part, and Damien was trying to avoid running across that Flash character besides — another reason he’d prefer to avoid an engagement in the field with Black Canary; he’d yet to test his magic against these so-called ‘metahumans’, even if theoretically it should work the same.

He could try threatening Quentin Lance’s life, of course, but given what her dear old dad had done to  _ her _ life, Laurel Lance might not bend to such a threat. He needed something better than that to bring her to heel. Something or someone dearer.

He needed more intelligence on the woman, simply put, and what better way to gather it than by going through her stuff? With that thought in mind, Damien decided to pay his ignorant minion of sorts Quentin a visit.

Damien found the man in his office, just barely keeping his head up at four in the afternoon. He tsked under his breath before rapping on the doorframe with his knuckles. “Knock, knock.”

The captain jerked sharply, eyes widening upon seeing him. “Mr. Darhk.”

“Damien, please. I thought I’d come see how you were holding up, Quentin. You know we all can’t imagine what you must be going through.”

Quentin nodded. “Appreciate that. We’re still, still running down a few leads. And uh, Warner from SWAT is back on duty, so that’s good. I’m sorry if this is holding up the building project.”

Damien shook his head. “This has been my dream for a while now. Nothing could truly hold that up.” He tapped his fingers on the back of the visitor’s chair. “Although, on the off chance that your daughter might mistakenly believe something is going on at my construction site that she ought to, ah,  _ investigate _ , I was wondering if I might perhaps borrow one or two of your men just to have them posted outside. Who knows? Maybe if she’s found there, you’ll have her home safe by morning.”

He had to rely on his patience as he waited for the gears in Quentin’s brain to process all of that, though finally the captain nodded again. “Yeah, yeah that might be something. I’ll get a couple men from the Glades beat on that.”

“Thank you so much. If only I could offer you something in return besides the millions in investment I am pouring into this city,” he mused aloud. Damien waited a moment, then snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. Why don’t I try being a sounding board, a fresh perspective for you? What sort of leads have you been running so far? Maybe there’s something you’ve missed. A confidant or a partner.”

He was sitting down, though Quentin snorted as he said, “I already know what I’m missing. Queen. The minute he shows his face back here, he’ll have a hell of an inquisition to answer to.”

Damien blinked, trying to draw upon the knowledge and research he had done before picking Starling City as his ideal location to launch Genesis. “This is… Oliver Queen? The man you thought was the Arrow?”

Quentin waved a hand in dismissal as he replied, “Harper was the red archer, he just took the fall because he was a fanatic. But Queen was the ringleader, knew about all that stuff. Look at- look at this he left for my daughter.” The man clumsily pulled open a drawer and withdrew what looked like a letter protected by a plastic sleeve, he supposed for the purposes of evidence-gathering. Damien scanned the words, his delight growing with every line. Soon, he was having to bite back his smile.

“Course he’s run off with his old secretary or whatever,” Quentin was saying. “Bastard’s never changed. Laurel will never learn when it comes to him.”

“Perhaps not. The heart wants what it wants,” he offered. Damien stood and handed back the letter. “Well, I do hope that we can resolve this situation quickly, Quentin. For Laurel’s sake.”

“Thank you.”

Once he had exited down the steps of the precinct, Damien finally let his ear-to-ear grin show.  _ This _ was exactly what he needed. If Oliver Queen held Miss Lance’s heart, then one needed to only hold Oliver Queen. Perfect pressure point.

The man had not said where he was going in his letter, but Damien had people who could research into that. They’d find him and bring him home to his dutifully waiting woman — then kill him, if necessary, should Laurel Lance continue to prove uncooperative.

Feeling much better now that he had a plan in mind, Damien returned home for the rest of the day to spend it with his own loved ones. He would issue the order to track Oliver Queen down tonight.

—

Laurel had had enough of waiting. It would be better to get to the bottom of whatever was happening at that construction site sooner than later, and she wasn’t going to become any more prepared for it by having a comm linked to an anonymous woman.

Oracle had checked in once more to tell her that the comm link had been shipped and that it would take about a week to get there since she’d needed to send it indirectly to keep it from being traced. Laurel had shrugged and said it was fine. She hadn’t even fully decided if she was going to bother picking it up, much less use it. Sure, Oracle hadn’t led the police to Laurel’s doorstep even though she clearly had the information needed to do so, but Laurel wasn’t crazy about letting some unknown person guide her out in the field.

According to this person, there was a dangerous man in her city, and Laurel had a feeling the paramilitary men she had confronted once already had something to do with him. These terrorist types usually brought their own army, after all.

So she left her base of operations after dark on her bike, making her way to the outside of the Glades just by the bay. Laurel slowed her bike and then turned off into a side street as she took note of something unexpected, however.

There were two police cars parked outside that definitely hadn’t been there nights prior when she’d cased the place. Had they guessed she was going to try and break in? How had this Damien Darhk worked out a deal like this?

She would just have to be more careful. Laurel left her bike behind a dumpster to shield it from the view of the main road, then climbed the nearest fire escape. She crossed the roof and peered across the distance to the next one, judging the gap. Laurel nodded to herself. She could make that.

She took a running leap and landed on the next roof, repeating it on the next and the next until she was on top of the empty condemned building beside the construction site. There was a large sort of plastic dome covering what was being worked on from view. A truck sat nearby, and she knew it was her best way down.

She dropped from the roof and landed in a crouch as softly as she could make it, tensed and listening for any kind of reaction within. The truck was out of view of the police cars, so that took care of them for now.

Laurel slid down from the roof and hid behind the truck as an opening was made in the dome to allow another truck out. The back of it was piled high with dirt. What exactly did they have left to excavate that the Undertaking hadn’t already taken care of?

She watched the truck drive away and waited a bit longer before sneaking towards the entrance of the dome. Laurel crept towards the opening and peered inside, mouth dropping as she stared down. Aside from a metal catwalk that ringed around the whole space, down was the only direction to look in.

A giant hole was being carved out of the site and went down deep, much deeper than needed for any sort of foundation of a building to be put in. What did they need this for?

The trouble was, digging a giant hole wasn’t exactly a crime, except maybe against zoning laws, but they’d never been her specialty anyway. What was she supposed to do with this? Laurel was just going to have to come back to see what was going on. She doubted they were stopping at making a hole.

Unless she could find some sort of blueprints or other documents detailing the project now. It would avoid her having to sneak back in and make this attempt actually worth something.

Laurel slipped inside the dome, keeping low as she moved around the catwalk. There were men down below smoothing out the dirt at the bottom, but they would have a hard time seeing her unless she stood up straight near the edge of the railing. There was a command center of sorts about halfway around the catwalk that had been walled off with plastic tarping. That would be her best bet, though it was likely where the fighting would begin. She readied her staff in her hand.

“You know, I fully expected this sort of thing to happen.,” said a voice behind her.

Laurel whirled around and stood, finding Damien Darhk himself facing her. He was totally unarmed, but no one from the League was ever completely defenseless. Laurel kept her staff raised between them. “Is that why you called the cops?”

His eyes were large, mock concern shining from them as he replied, “Your daddy’s very worried about you, Miss Lance. I only thought I could help him see you safely to the care you so clearly need.”

“Spare the act, Darhk. I already know what you really are,” Laurel told him. “And my father might be your lap dog, but you’ll find out he didn’t raise one.”

“You think you know me, do know? Well, let’s test that theory,” he said, raising his arms.

Laurel advanced, her staff swinging, only for it to be flung out of her hands and down below. All Darhk hand done was wave one arm in that direction. What the hell?

Laurel made fists instead, going for the attack, but froze mid way through a punch. Literally froze. She couldn’t move a muscle except for her eyes, which darted around in a panic. What was this?

“Difficult, isn’t it? I’m afraid I’ve picked up a few tricks in my time on this planet we have to call home,” he remarked, slowly walking a circle around her. “It’s a shame. I was honestly hoping for a bit more of a challenge. It’s nothing you could help,” he added in a way that might have been kind were he anyone else.

Laurel was panicking so much she barely even heard him. No matter how much she strained against whatever invisible hold he had on her, nothing changed. Was this some kind of metahuman thing?

“Now I really can’t have you talking to anyone abou this, so I’m afraid I’m gonna have to break that pledge to the captain. But out of sight, out of mind as they say. Might just be better for him.”

He touched her then, a rough shove right between her shoulder blades. Laurel’s body hit the railing and, without any ability to grip onto anything, went over.

Like that, the frozen feeling was gone, and Laurel’s arms and legs flailed in the air as she went plummeting down. A scream ripped out of her throat, waves rippling out and impacting the earth that was coming up — only now it was slower and slower than before.

Buffeted by the sheer power she was releasing from her mouth, Laurel came down in a slightly ungraceful heap, but nothing was broken and she was alive. Alive but surrounded by a bunch of paramilitary guys who had all dropped or set aside their tools in astonishment.

“I’ll be damned,” Darhk called down, sounding genuinely surprised. “Oh well. Kill her.” He turned and began walking away.

Darhk’s men all began to reach for their weapons, and Laurel quickly dove forward, knowing she could only hope to get out of here if she took enough of them out before someone fired a gun. She didn’t even know where the exit was on this level. Laurel delivered a right hook to one man’s jaw, a knife hand strike to a second, but saw stars when the butt of a gun impacted the back of her head twice.

She staggered forward into the swing of another fist, feeling the air rush out of her. Laurel grabbed his wrist and twisted, hearing a sharp yell. But her vision was still blurry and guns were cocking. She didn’t even know which way to turn. Her eyes fell closed, and she knew she had failed. She hadn’t even figured out what this latest plot was, hadn’t even warned anyone.

Who was left to save their city now?

—

Barry could admit to himself sometimes over that last couple months that it felt strange to run alone. Technically he’d always run alone; except for when he fought Reverse Flash, no one else could keep up. But he had always had Cisco or Caitlin or, sickening as it was, even Wells there in his ear. Joe when he could be, Iris near the end. The end of the days he could see himself as a hero.

He knew the others didn’t agree. Nobody seemed willing to blame him for the destruction and deaths he’d caused, and he didn’t know why. It had been his choice, his inability to defeat his mother’s killer on his own, that had led to it all falling apart. That was why he had to go it alone now, to keep anyone else from suffering the consequences of his own mistakes.

That didn’t stop it from being lonely at times, though.

He was just about finished up with another patrol. Then he could get back to work rebuilding. He’d been getting better with the craft. All the reading he could fit into a day really helped to learn new trades. He didn’t mind buying all the supplies himself either since Wells had left him all his money in some kind of sick joke. He wasn’t about to spend it on himself, but he’d happily let the bastard foot the bill for what he had helped to destroy.

But as Barry rounded a corner with the intent to head back to STAR Labs and grab his toolkit, a strange thing happened. The comm in his ear crackled to life, and a voice he didn’t recognize spoke.

_ “How fast are you?” _

Barry pulled up short and put a hand to his earpiece. “Who is this?”

_ “We don’t have time. If you don’t get to the Glades in Starling City in the next few minutes, Laurel is going to die. I think she’s your friend, too.” _

The voice was a woman, was all he could tell, but Barry was more preoccupied with her words. “How do you—? Never mind.” Whoever this person was, how they had contacted him or if they were even telling the truth, he wasn’t about to chance it. He couldn’t let another friend die, not when he had the ability to stop it. Barry shot off for Starling City as fast as he was capable, arriving in the lower-income neighborhood and turning this way and that.

“Now where?”

_ “Construction site by the docks.” _

He was there in seconds, just in time to hear a scream at an impossible decibel, one he had heard on the news when he had reviewed the footage Cisco had shown him.

Barry found a large looking dome and raced around it to locate the opening in the plastic tarp. He stepped onto the catwalk, hearing sounds of a fight down in the gigantic pit someone had carved into the earth. He didn’t bother looking for stairs, instead running straight down the dirt wall and into the fray where Laurel stood, grabbing her and whisking her away from the bullet being fired from one man’s gun. Barry ran, out of the Glades and to the outskirts of Starling. Only then did he skid to a stop.

Laurel’s eyes blinked open but looked unfocused, and her voice slurred slightly as she looked up at him with a furrowed brow. “Ollie?”

“Sorry, just me. Uh, Barry, I mean. We’ve met a few times.”

“Huh? How’d you get here?” She shook her head then groaned, her chin ducking down. “I mean, how’d you know to be? I know you ran, cause that’s- that’s your thing and stuff.”

“Someone told me you were in trouble,” he told her simply. Barry thought he probably ought to set her down, but he wasn’t sure she could keep her balance on her own.

_ “How’s she doing?” _ Said that very someone on his comm, and he nearly jumped.  _ “Sounds concussed.” _

“I think so.”

“Think what?” Laurel asked, pulling a confused look that was kind of adorable.

“Think you’re probably gonna have to come back to the Labs so we can check your head,” he decided to answer her. “Keep your head tucked in, okay?”

He made the trip slower than usual, knowing it probably wouldn’t be good for her to have too much sudden movement. The whole run, Barry wondered to himself what to do. He wasn’t a doctor; he could keep a person alive as evidenced by the time he had saved Oliver, but he didn’t really know how to navigate this kind of injury beyond recommending bed rest. He needed help, and there was really only one person he could call.

Barry told himself he wasn’t doing this for him but for Laurel. He told himself the danger had already passed, so he wasn’t risking anyone’s life by calling. He told himself it was so late in Central that she might not even answer anyway, and if she didn’t then it was just a sign that he’d been right.

But Caitlin’s groggy voice answered his call.  _ “Barry? Are you hurt?” _

“No, I’m fine. But I got Laurel out of a bad situation tonight, and I think she might have a concussion. We’re at the Labs.”

_ “I’ll be there,” _ Caitlin answered his unspoken question.  _ “Just have her lie down for now and keep the lights low. _ ”

“Okay.” Barry turned back to Laurel, who was sitting on the cot he had frequented as one of Caitlin’s patients with her head in her hands. “You should probably just lie down.”

“I’m fine,” she groused in a remarkable impression of Oliver. He wondered if their mutual friend was often on her mind since her confused assumption had been to think Oliver was her rescuer when Oliver hadn’t been seen or heard from in months now. Or Ollie, he supposed. He didn’t know people still called the man Ollie as an endearment. That was sweet, in a way.

“I just wasn’t expecting him to be able to do that,” she continued.

“Do what? And who do what?”

“Damien Darhk,” she replied. “He’s former League of Assassins from a long time ago and has decided to move in on Starling for some reason. That’s his construction site where they’re digging that massive hole. But when I tried to fight him, he… he has some kind of powers. Maybe he’s a metahuman. I don’t know.”

“Are you a metahuman?” Barry asked.

He was met with a shrug. “I guess. I wasn’t able to do this scream thing until recently, though.”

_ “It’s a good thing since it saved your neck,” _ the voice he’d been hearing in his comm said, only this time it came from the speakers of Cisco’s computer. Barry rushed over there to see the screen displaying a mask-like symbol on a black background.

Laurel looked up slowly. “Oh. That’s who told you to be there.”

_ “Yep. You left your base while I was making dinner, so it took me some time to track you to the construction site. Then I figured you needed some pretty quick backup, and I was reasonably sure you two knew each other.” _

“Yeah, we do,” Barry agreed slowly. He felt kind of stupid for taking his cowl down. Could she see them? “Who exactly are you?”

_ “Oracle.” _

“That’s all you’re gonna get out of her,” Laurel added before he could open his mouth. “She’s the secretive type.”

_ “Aren’t all vigilantes?” _ Oracle quipped.  _ “I’m looking deeper into what Darhk’s been up to the last few years, by the way. What he did tonight didn’t seem to be based on any sort of enhanced ability the explosion of dark matter might have given a person. It seems more like he’s trained or acquired something that allows him to perform magic.” _

“Magic?” Barry echoed doubtfully.

_ “Trust me, it exists. I’ll try to narrow it down more before I call in any favors with a friend, though. Get some rest for now, Laurel.” _

“Mm-hm.”

The screen went black. Barry left it and walked back over to his friend. “So how’d you two meet?”

“We haven’t, really. She just does that sometimes, pops up on a screen in the beta site Oliver set up a few years back that I’m borrowing.”

“And you trust her?”

“I don’t really have much choice but to trust her. It’s not so different from when I worked with Oliver before I knew his identity,” she added. “But I think I’m remembering that I didn’t thank you before. You really saved me back there.”

“It’s what anyone would’ve done.”

Footsteps in the corridor announced Caitlin’s arrival ahead of her appearing in the archway of the cortex. “Laurel. Oh, it’s so good you’re safe.”

“Um, hello?” Laurel replied.

“Laurel, this is Dr. Caitlin Snow. She’s — she was a member of my team.”

Caitlin cast an injured look his way that Barry did his best to ignore.

“I just want to check a few things to see how serious this concussion might be,” his friend continued in a professional manner nonetheless. “If you’d like, I could also run a test on your DNA to see if you really do have an active meta gene.”

“I guess you should. I’m not likely to be getting my annual checkup in this year at any rate,” Laurel said with a lopsided smile.

Barry backed off to allow Caitlin her space to work. He needed the time to process everything from tonight anyway.

He had intervened in events in Starling directly against Joe’s wishes. As much as he dreaded the conversation they would have if Joe ever found out about this, Barry couldn’t regret the action he had taken. He didn’t know Laurel all that well, truth be told, but she was a good person, and he liked what he did know. Even if she had been a complete stranger, he would have felt horrible to hear if she had died tonight. He wouldn’t have even known what to say to Oliver if the other man ever came back and had found out Barry had been warned and done nothing. Laurel was Oliver’s teammate; she meant something to the former vigilante, the same as how Barry still cared for his old teammates.

He doubted Oliver would like that Laurel was being forced to put her trust in some mysterious woman on a computer, even if said woman had helped to save Laurel’s life tonight. Who was Oracle? How had she gotten access to Barry’s comm and STAR Labs’ computers? Why was she even interested in helping Laurel? Probably the only person who had a hope of finding the answers to those questions was Felicity, and she was just as absent as Oliver these days.

“Okay, you’ll definitely need to stay the night here, and I recommend that you remain in Central for even longer,” Caitlin said, pulling Barry from his thoughts. “While your concussion doesn’t appear to be too severe, you’re dehydrated and probably lacking in proper nutrition. I’m not even sure how you’ve managed to stay out of jail for so long.”

“I have to go back,” Laurel insisted, which made Caitlin frown. Barry knew his friend hated seeing people insist on disregarding their health like this.

“I’ll take you back in a couple days if you promise to stay here the rest of tonight,” he stepped in to offer. “Just to give yourself some time to rest up and heal a little. We could even get some supplies together for you to take back.”

It was Laurel’s turn to frown, but she gave a grudging, “Fine.”

“Okay, great.” He looked to Caitlin, who seemed at least a little happier with this decision even if he was sure she would argue for longer tomorrow. “Thanks for coming out here tonight, Caitlin.”

“It’s no trouble. I’m still here to help, Barry. We all are.” Caitlin stripped off her gloves, gathered her things and strode to the exit, stopping once to add, “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you, Laurel. Please try and take it easy.” Then she left them in silence.

“I can, uh, give you the room if you like,” Barry eventually said.

“How come Caitlin isn’t on your team anymore?” Laurel asked before he could go, however, stopping him in his tracks. “Doesn’t look like it was her decision.”

“It wasn’t. I don’t really have a team anymore,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “There was… something happened a couple months ago, and it was my fault. So I disbanded the team to keep anybody else from getting hurt.”

Laurel digested that, then asked, “Can I offer some advice? Take it with a grain of salt if you want since I was hit in the head pretty hard.”

“Okay.”

“Doing this alone really,  _ really _ sucks,” she stated bluntly. “I think about how hard it must have been for Ollie, on the island and when he first got home, all the time. If you have people in your life who want to help you, who can safely do so, don’t turn them down.”

Barry stared at the ground. “But they’re not safe when they’re with me. Goodnight, Laurel.”

He left the cortex before she could speak again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week, another chapter! Hoping you all find something to enjoy in the events that unfold in this one. Thanks for reading and commenting!

She woke feeling more rested after one night than Laurel could remember feeling in the last month. Just knowing she was in a facility run by friends and protected by a guy with superspeed was enough to do that, she supposed. Laurel rose and wandered out of the main room Barry had left her in, looking for a bathroom. She found one better than that. It looked like the laboratory had a shower, probably for decontamination purposes, but Laurel would take it.

A couple of towels sat on a bench outside the shower, so Laurel got undressed and stepped under the spray, luxuriating in the feel of the water. There was even soap and a clinical-looking bottle of shampoo, things that had been hard to come by since her life as a fugitive began. Laurel was tempted to stand under the water until it ran cold, but a voice in the back of her head whispered that if she let herself indulge too much and for too long, she might not be able to bring herself to go back. She shut the shower off right after that.

There was no quitting. She was Starling’s last and only line of defense against the gangs, the corruption and terrorists like Darhk. If Ollie could survive a hellish island for years, she wasn’t throwing in the towel after a few months. She’d never be able to look him in the face again, assuming she ever saw him again. The best thing for him right now was to stay far away from the city and her father. Hopefully he and Felicity had realized together that it was necessary.

She wrapped herself in one of the towels on the bench and was drying off her hair with the other when the door swung open and Cisco walked through, mouth dropping and eyes bulging at the sight of her.

“Whoa!”

“Cisco!”

“Sorry!”

He rushed from the room and the door banged shut behind him. Laurel hung her head for a moment, then set about getting back into her old clothes. At least she’d had a towel on. She could deal with any embarrassment or awkwardness from that.

Cisco wasn’t out in the hall when she emerged, so Laurel frowned and walked back to the main room. “Cisco?”

Heavy breathing came from around the corner as Cisco jogged into view. “Sorry. Had to find the other bathroom. Oh, man, I really gotta leave the running to Barry.” He braced a hand against the wall for a moment, then straightened up, his eyes alight. “But you’re here! I don’t even know why or how you’re here. This is great!”

“Barry helped me out of a situation last night,” she said. “And Caitlin wants me to stay for a little to give myself time to heal.”

“I knew it, I  _ knew _ we could all just band together behind helping you,” Cisco said, his grin stretching so wide she worried it might hurt.

“Barry told me he disbanded the team,” Laurel said, “so if you didn’t know I was already here, how come you’re here?”

“I’ve been working on a side project. Barry doesn’t really notice. He’s in and out all the time.”

Just as Cisco finished saying so, there was a rush of wind and several envelopes kicked up as Barry appeared in the room. “Cisco? Did Caitlin call you?”

“Nope, but I’m just such an awesome friend I came anyway,” Cisco replied. “So what’s the plan? How are we saving Starling City from itself this time?”

“I’m not sure we can,” Laurel admitted with a sigh. She hugged her arms to herself as she continued, “There’s a man named Damien Darhk pretending to be a White Knight investor, only he’s got some kind of secret project he’s building in the Glades. He has some kind of powers. He froze me in place and threw me off the catwalk with practically no effort.”

“Wait, you fell off the catwalk, too?” Barry asked. “How’d you survive?”

“My scream. It sort of broke my fall.”

Barry and Cisco exchanged a look. “That’s awesome,” Cisco told her.

She shrugged. “It didn’t help me stop him.”

“Well, your friend said she’s gonna do some research into whatever she  _ thinks _ he’s using. If he’s really not a meta, that’ll be your best bet.”

“What friend is that?” Cisco asked.

“There’s a woman that reached out anonymously to Laurel with technology,” Barry explained. “She also got into my comm feed  _ and _ into STAR Labs’ computer system.”

“Whoa. That’s some serious skill.”

“Cisco? What are you doing here?” They all turned at the sound of Caitlin’s voice, who was now standing in the archway. Her gaze moved to Laurel, and a line appeared between her brows. “And what are you doing up?”

“I feel fine, really,” Laurel said, unable to do little else but back up as the other woman bustled forward. She slipped for a second on an envelope lying on the floor, but the backs of her legs hit the cot and she sat on it. “It must’ve been a mild concussion.”

“The brain is a tricky thing. You don’t want to make any assumptions,” Caitlin told her. “But let me check on the results of your gene test first.”

Laurel nodded, then bent down to pick up the envelope she’d nearly fallen on. It was addressed to Barry from Weathersby & Stone and stamped with  _ Urgent _ . “Did you drop this?” She asked him.

“Uh,” he scratched the back of his neck. “No. They keep sending those. It’s about the stuff Wells left me, I guess. I don’t really need to look at it.”

“Well, yes, you do. Especially if you mean Harrison Wells, who I was pretty sure owned this place.”

“He wasn’t really Wells,” Cisco interjected. “He was this asshole from the future who killed Barry’s mom and killed the real Wells, but he’s gone now.”

Laurel blinked, wondering if maybe she was still suffering from her head being hit. “What do you mean, the future?”

Barry shot Cisco a look before explaining, “Speedsters can travel through time sometimes. It’s not really something that should happen or be talked about much.”

“Sorry, dude.”

“Okay,” Laurel said, turning the envelope in her hands over. “That still doesn’t change that you should read this and follow whatever instructions are in there. If he left you an inheritance or this lab, it might be conditional on you doing certain things, and you won’t know what they are unless you open it. If you don’t follow the instructions, STAR Labs will most likely go into receivership.”

It had been a while since she had offered anyone legal advice, Laurel realized with a pang of regret. She really wasn’t even an expert at inheritances, but she knew enough to get by and to advise Barry in this one case.

Reluctantly, Barry took the envelope from her outstretched hands and opened it, taking out the letter and skimming it. “They want me to come to their office to collect a video recording he made. Terrific, cause I definitely needed to see his face so soon.”

“Barry, if you need someone to go with you, we’re here,” Caitlin said, walking over and laying a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do that by yourself. No one would want to.”

Barry nodded. “Okay. Maybe later today. What were the results on the meta gene test?”

“Positive. You’re definitely a meta,” Caitlin said to Laurel.

“How is that possible?” Laurel asked. “I thought you had to be in Central when the particle accelerator exploded.” Her mother was a more likely candidate to have metahuman powers than her, amusing as that thought was.

“Deathbolt wasn’t. I checked when Ray brought him in,” Cisco said. His lips turned down, as he added quietly, “It really sucked about that accident.”

“Yeah. Yeah, none of us were expecting that.” Laurel looked down. She hadn’t known Ray Palmer very well and even threatened him with a defamation suit for bringing up admittedly credible allegations about Oliver’s identity as the Arrow, but he’d been a good person who wanted the best for their city. They could use more people like him about now, but then maybe it was better he hadn’t gotten caught up in her father’s crusade against vigilantism.

“If Barry and I go see what this video message is about, will you keep resting, Laurel?” Caitlin asked, drawing her out of her thoughts about the late businessman.

“Not much else for me to do,” she replied. Caitlin nodded, and she and Barry left the cortex. Laurel stood from the cot. “Does Barry have some kind of training room?” She asked Cisco.

“Uh, not one he uses much. But, hey, why don’t you come with me to my workroom and I can show you something I’ve been putting together instead?” The engineer led the way out of the cortex, and Laurel supposed she had little choice but to follow. She entered a room after him to find a mannequin standing by a workbench wearing a black bodysuit with navy and gold accents.

“Wow, that’s a nice suit,” she told him. It looked even sturdier than her old one, if she was being perfectly honest.

“Glad you think so, cause it’s yours,” he replied. “Or it’s gonna be when it’s finished.”

“What? Cisco, I couldn’t take this. I don’t have anything to pay you with. Not even a photo’s worth much anymore.”

“Are you kidding? Laurel, I would never ask you to pay for it. You’re going through like the worst time ever right now, and I wanted to do something to help,” he said. “I don’t know when it’ll be ready yet, cause what you said about the meta Cry breaking your fall gave me a new idea to add on. Can you hold your arms up to either side?” He asked, demonstrating the pose with his own arms.

“Okay.” Laurel did as asked and watched him pick up a tape measure and walk up to her.

He started to measure the distance between her elbow and torso, one hand touching her arm with the tape measure, when suddenly he seized up with a gasp.

“Cisco?” Laurel asked, but he remained staring off into space. Was it some kind of seizure? She grabbed his shoulder. “Cisco.”

He gave a sharp jerk and seemed to come back to himself. “Sorry. Uh, lemme just finish up.” He quickly measured her and stepped back, going to a pad of paper on the bench and jotting down some notes.

“Are you okay? Really?” She asked when he stayed silent.

Cisco sighed and set the pencil down, not looking at her as he answered, “I think I’m like you. A- a late bloomer, I guess. I think I have powers.”

“You mean you’re a meta?” When he nodded, Laurel stepped up beside him, trying to get him to meet her eyes. “Why are you acting like that’s not a good thing?”

“Because Wells was the one who told me I was, before he died,” Cisco explained. “And he was evil, so I feel like if he knew, if he made me this way… what if I’m evil, too? Or my powers make me that way?”

“Okay…” Laurel said, turning that over for a moment. “Does that make me evil?”

“What? No,” he dismissed immediately.

“How about Barry?”

“Barry was his enemy. He  _ had _ to create him.”

“Well, I definitely wasn’t his enemy since I have no idea what half of what you’re talking about means,” she began, “and I don’t believe myself to be evil just because I have powers. We make our own choices, not some guy from the future.”

He didn’t look quite convinced, so Laurel added, “I don’t know if you ever met my sister, Sara.”

“I don’t think so… was she the one Caitlin was testing the murder weapon of last year?”

“Most likely,” Laurel replied. “Before she died, she was forced into serving an organization called the League of Assassins.”

“There’s a  _ League _ of  _ Assassins _ ?” He asked.

“Yep, and their leader was honestly an evil man. My sister had to serve him for years, and she thought it made her a monster. But when she left them, she used the skills she had to protect women in the Glades from harm, to protect me and the city. That was who she really was. It’s your own choice what you become, no matter what someone else thinks they can turn you into.”

“Wow. I guess that does make sense,” he said after a few moments. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. So what are your powers, anyway?”

“Uh, I like sort of see things? The future maybe, or- or other time… stuff,” he said, gesturing vaguely.

Laurel blinked. “Uh, well that sounds awesome in a kind of crazy way. Did you see something just now when you touched me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was, like, you in this suit I’m making you,” he said. “And you were just sort of standing on this rooftop with an archer. I couldn’t really see his face cause he had the bow up and all, you know. But he was kinda dressed like Oliver.”

Laurel’s heart thumped once. “Well… I guess that’s just one of those other-time-stuff things you said.” It couldn’t be the future, at the very least. The Arrow was dead and Oliver was retired. Cisco hadn’t even seen Oliver. It could’ve been someone else like how Roy had posed as the Arrow months ago. Maybe all the vision was about was those of their team who had been discovered and hunted.

Laurel ended up sitting in another chair at the workbench and chatting with Cisco while he continued to work on her suit. He had all kinds of questions about how she’d been managing to hide out, what her supplies looked like and if there was anything she was in dire need of. She didn’t know how long they sat there talking, but suddenly a blur rushed into the room and was hugging her.

“Thank you, thank you  _ so much _ ,” Barry said, holding her tight and voice choked with emotion.

“Barry? What’s going on?”

“Whoa, Barry, you okay?” Cisco asked.

Barry pulled back and wiped at his eyes. “Yeah. I just — I watched the video. And I don’t know why he did it, but… he confessed. Wells, he confessed to my mom’s murder. I can get my dad out of prison.”

“Dude, that’s awesome!” Cisco crowed. Laurel just stared at the pair with wide eyes, having not even known Barry had a father in prison until this moment.

“If I’d kept putting it off, if you hadn’t told me I had to go watch that video, Laurel,” Barry was saying. “I really can’t thank you enough.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help your family get justice,” she said eventually. “Hopefully, I can keep doing the same for the city soon.”

As nice as this break from fugitive life was, as much as she was glad to help some of her friends and have people she knew to talk to, she couldn’t stay here forever. No matter how good it might be for her own health or well-being, as long as Darhk remained in Starling City he was a threat to the health and well-being of countless.

Barry and Cisco exchanged slightly defeated looks, and she could see they knew she was right about that. “Let us put you together some stuff to take back,” Barry said.

In the end, she was gifted with a few boxes worth of what were apparently speedster calorie bars, which Barry claimed weren’t great to taste but would last her far longer than they usually did him. Given what Caitlin had said about her nutrition, Laurel wasn’t going to object to taking them. Cisco also supplied her a new staff that had the ability to split into two shorter sticks since her old one was still back at Darhk’s construction site.

“We’ll bring you your suit as soon as it’s ready,” Cisco promised. “You should be going out there with some better protection.”

“Thank you, but I’ve been doing okay so far,” she said. “I’m sure it’ll be fine until it’s done.”

“I wish you could stick around to meet my dad,” Barry said. “But, uh, the party’s gonna be at Joe’s, and he doesn’t really know yet about us helping you. Probably best to keep it that way.”

“Fine by me,” Laurel agreed with a shrug since she didn’t know who Joe was or why it was important he not know about her having been here.

“Are you sure?” Caitlin asked, practically begging.

“I am. This is something I have to do. Just like helping Barry is something you guys have to do, and he should let you do that,” she added with a look around at the other hero. Barry rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, but didn’t disagree this time. “Thank you all for your help, and goodbye.”

“For now,” Cisco added with a determined set to his jaw.

Barry scooped her up and whisked her back off to Starling City just as the sun set. Laurel had him set her down outside Oliver’s old beta site and saw him off with a wave. Then she hurried inside the little bunker, sighing a little in relief once the door shut.

The silence after STAR Labs was almost deafening. Laurel headed further into the room, shedding her leather jacket and pulling on Oliver’s old hoodie. She’d promised Caitlin she would wait another night before going out, but a part of her wished she hadn’t just so she’d have something to do and people to see, for however briefly and violently in some cases.

What she wouldn’t give to still have a team.

—

She’d always hated dealing with magic in the field, and benched as she was now, she still found herself detesting it. Watching Laurel from the security footage Darhk had on-site as the woman had struggled and been rendered helpless had made her think of her own feeling of helplessness that night all those years ago, bleeding and feeling the numbness set into the lower half of her body. The sooner she could figure out what item of power or practice of magic Darhk was using and what weaknesses it had, the better.

She’d been doing all the searching she could while Laurel was resting up with her allies in Central. So far, Barbara had been able to trace Darhk’s path back the last few decades. The man had been seemingly trying to broker some kind of purchase with a number of different arms dealers for quite some time. However, within the last year he had suddenly shifted tactics, and the soldiers he commanded under the banner of an organization called H.I.V.E. had raided a storage facility operated by the Advanced Research Group United Support, or ARGUS for short. It took her some deeper digging to figure out what was missing from ARGUS’s inventory, and when she did, she thought she had her answer.

By that point, Laurel had been returned to the city and to the base where they could communicate. Barbara activated the connection she had built into the computer at the site and waited for Laurel to notice her. The vigilante had traded her leather jacket once again for a green hoodie, likely in a bid to get a little more comfortable. Barbara kind of wished she’d been able to ship more than a comm link out for her to pick up, but too many packages arriving at John Diggle’s doorstep might start arousing suspicions. And unlike Bruce, Barbara wasn’t made of money, either.

“How are you feeling?” She asked as a way of greeting.

Laurel’s head turned towards the screen.  _ “Oh, hey. I’m doing better. Thanks again, by the way.” _

“Don’t mention it.”

_ “You didn’t talk much at STAR Labs,” _ Laurel continued. _ “You shy or something?” _

Barbara smirked. “More like busy. I’ve been researching what our friend Damien Darhk was able to do the other night, and what that means about the kind of magic he’s using.”

Laurel came a little closer.  _ “So what is it?” _

“These abilities are reportedly linked to something called the Kushu Idol. ARGUS had it in their possession until recently when it was stolen by H.I.V.E., the organization Darhk’s affiliated with.”

_ “Okay, what else do we know about it?” _

“Not much yet,” she admitted. Barbara kept going into the ARGUS files on the idol itself and what ARGUS knew about it. There were reports from a mission about five years ago. “The only agent ARGUS has who saw it in action was… well, that’s awkward.”

_ “What is?” _

Barbara looked at Laurel on the display. “I’m guessing Oliver Queen really was the Arrow, since he apparently conducted a solo operation directly under Amanda Waller’s supervision that got them the idol about five years ago.”

_ “Of course he did,” _ Laurel muttered under her breath.

“We’ll need to talk to him about it.”

_ “Easier said than done for me. I have no idea where he and Felicity are vacationing, and even if I did I’m not exactly able to just board a plane right now. Don’t have the money for one either.” _ Laurel shook her head.  _ “I’ll just ask John and Lyla if they can look into it any further on their side of things, ask their boss for more details.” _

“I could reach out to him.”

On the screen, Laurel let out a snort of a laugh like she’d said something hilarious that had Barbara pouting a little.  _ “Right, because Oliver’s going to speak to an anonymous woman about his secret government past. He doesn’t even tell his own sister about it if he can help it.” _

“I’d say I was asking for you, to help you protect the city.” Wouldn’t he want that?

_ “Then he’ll think you’re threatening me or something.” _

Geez, Oliver Queen and Bruce should’ve met up for drinks before Bruce left. “I’d tell him we’re friends. I could tell him something you both know, something innocuous. Can you think of anything?”

_ “Oliver and I have rarely been innocuous,” _ Laurel replied, and Barbara had to raise an eyebrow at that.

“Okay, what about… a concert you went to together. A teacher from first grade. A prom song you danced to.”

_ “Uh… Alicia Keys, I think?” _ Laurel guessed.

Barbara pulled up a search engine and typed in the singer’s name plus the relevant year. “‘If I Ain’t Got You’ sound right?”

_ “Probably.” _

“Well that doesn’t instill a lot of confidence,” she remarked, hoping the altered tone would come out in a joking manner. Barbara knew how easily this life wore a person down, and Laurel’s situation in particular demanded high morale. She’d found herself relaxing the more distant voice and vocabulary she’d been trying to maintain at the start, trying to provide some sense of friendship. Even if she still worried what might happen if her identity got out to the people Laurel was fighting, which kept her from revealing herself.

The woman’s shoulders raised and dropped. The sleeves of the green hoodie she wore slipped over her hands with the movement, and she pushed them back up her wrists.  _ “It was a long time ago, practically a lifetime.” _

“Yeah. High school boyfriends,” she agreed.

A wistful smile was on Laurel’s face as she asked,  _ “Had one yourself?” _

“Oh, yeah. But that’s a long story. I’ll do what I can to locate your old beau and see what he knows about this idol. I’ll let you know if there’s anything we can use.”

_ “Yeah. Sounds good.” _ Laurel withdrew, sitting on the cot that was set against the one narrow wall.

“Anything you want me to tell him from you specifically?” Barbara asked after a pause.

Laurel looked off towards the middle distance for a while.  _ “I guess just… I’m going to keep being what the city needs. And that I hope he stays safe and happy.” _

“Got it,” Barbara said, resolving to stop pushing the issue. She knew what it was like, still having feelings for an ex that were just never going to fix the fact that it was over. There wasn’t any more need to pry. “You get some rest, okay? Remember to swing by John Diggle’s tomorrow for the comm link.”

_ “Okay. You get some sleep, too, alright?” _

“I will. Night, Laurel.” Barbara ended her connection with the woman’s base just as Laurel leaned onto her side in the cot. She could probably put another couple hours into trying to locate Oliver Queen, or she could head to bed like she’d told Laurel she would. It wouldn’t change much of anything if she contacted him tonight or tomorrow, Barbara supposed. Better to get the rest while she could. As soon as they knew more about the idol’s weaknesses, they’d be busy developing an actionable plan against Darhk.

Barbara put her systems into sleep mode and locked them, then wheeled away from her desk towards her bedroom. Though in the event that Oliver Queen couldn’t be located right away or didn’t have much good intel, they were going to need a backup…

Barbara turned back around and brought her screens up, searching through her contacts before placing a call. “Hey, Zee, you up?”

—

There had come a certain point during his years away where time had seemed to lose all sense of meaning. Even now, it was difficult trying to fit the events that had happened then into some kind of order and context. There had been the island and his forceful separation from home, then there hadn’t been. Oliver had never wanted to feel that way again. So it was with a growing unease that he was realizing he did.

It was something about islands for him, he supposed, even inhabited ones. Cut off from the rest of the world and no real meaning to the days except to find food, train to keep in shape and sleep. Except in Bali, he had a secure place to sleep, he was keeping in shape because his girlfriend had made very clear she liked a certain physique rather than for his own survival and he was grocery shopping instead of hunting for wild boar. Restlessness seemed to gnaw on him all the same, some instinct in him convinced this was merely the calm before another storm.

A radio up by the register played some sort of pop toon as he walked up and down the aisles. Every day, Oliver grew a little closer to asking if the cashier wouldn’t mind turning it over to some station on international news. He didn’t imagine he’d ever hear anything about Starling on it, but something a little closer to home would be enough to quiet the wondering and worrying. At least for a while.

He had thought himself above creature comforts like the Internet. After five years with hardly any access to it, he’d believed he wouldn’t notice it gone, and that was why he had shrugged and agreed back when Felicity had suggested the vacation home with its single wired connection they were inhabiting. That they had been inhabiting for almost three months now. Three months, and he was ready to quit vacationing. He really didn’t know how to just settle, did he?

Oliver brought his purchases up towards the counter, only to freeze as the door was banged open and two men with guns and faces covered with wraps barged in. They barked something at the cashier, who backed up from the register with raised hands, and the second of the two men turned out to inspect the store, eyes widening when they met Oliver’s.

It was the gun pointing at him that really had him go into autopilot, he decided after.

Oliver dropped the shopping basket and ducked as a shot rang out, rolling forward and coming up onto his feet in front of the man where he delivered two quick jabs to his sternum before wrenching the gun from his hands. He unloaded the clip, then used the blunt end to strike the man across the temple.

His friend was shouting at him and waving the gun wildly, but Oliver snagged him by the strap and threw him forward into the side of the refrigerator holding different pop brands. That man slid down to the floor with a groan, and Oliver repeated his motions of taking the gun and unloading the clip before dumping it on the ground.

In the sudden silence, he noticed the cashier staring at him with a mix of awe and terror, and Oliver froze as the logical side of himself caught up to what instinct had had him do.

“Um… I’ll let you call the authorities. Sorry.” He quickly ducked out of the store and hurried up and out of town, back up the well-beaten path towards the vacation home.

What had he been thinking, doing that in broad daylight? He wasn’t a vigilante anymore. And yet, in the moment, there hadn’t even been a second thought to whether he was going to act or not. And still in the aftermath, a part of him didn’t see why there should have been. He was  _ glad _ the store hadn’t been robbed. Wouldn’t anyone be?

Each breath he drew in as he jogged seemed clearer now, sharper, more invigorating. He had forgotten this feeling, the knowledge that, because of him, someone was safe and their livelihood protected. It was like waking up after sleeping for too long. Why had he given it up?

Ra’s. Lance. Roy. Felicity and her fear that she would lose him out on the streets some night. But still, the blood was practically singing in his ears. Chasing a high to avoid real life, he wondered?

But no. What he had just done had felt more real than the last three months, the bruises on his knuckles were testament that life was more than beautiful weather and good drinks. It had been the opposite of dulling pain. He’d been so wrong about what he’d said to Laurel all those months ago; fighting for others was how a person knew they were still alive.

He jogged into the little house and through the archway to the front room where Felicity’s work setup took up most of the space. “Hey.”

His girlfriend gave a great gasp and clicked around on the keyboard to put her computer to sleep. “Oliver, please don’t surprise me like that. I have to keep the company reports secure.”

“You know I don’t really have anyone to tell my corporate espionage to, right? Just you.”

“Even still.” She turned her chair to face him, mouth falling into a pout as she asked. “What happened to grocery shopping?”

“Got a little sidetracked. We should probably just order in.” Oliver’s hands twitched at his sides as he considered whether or not to tell her why he had gotten sidetracked or rather what he had done while sidetracked. Felicity was so determined to leave the vigilante lifestyle behind thanks to how hard this last year had been.

Perhaps it was best to start with a safer topic, the question that had been on his mind for weeks now. “You think maybe we should start packing soon?”

“Packing what, the order?” She asked in clear confusion.

“Our things. For the trip back? Might be easier to keep those company files secure if they were in the right building.” And it would be easier for him to see how the others were doing, to have a sense of helping, even if it was just offering himself as a sparring partner or working on Thea’s arrows or being a pair of eyes on the CCTV footage to give those of his old team who could still be out in the field advance warning about anything. It’d be hopeless for him to try and become a vigilante to the local community here in Bali long-term — he’d never even really know what they needed — but he had promised his city he would be there for them. He wouldn’t be happy the longer he left that promise broken.

But Felicity made a disbelieving noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Well, I guess I missed the conversation about us leaving.”

“We haven’t had it yet, but I figured it’d be soon,” he said.

“Why? I wasn’t ready to leave yet.”

“Okay, well we don’t have to leave right away,” he offered. “But how long are you thinking?”

“Where are you thinking we go to next?” Felicity asked instead. “There’s more vacation homes and condos I inherited that we haven’t broken in yet.”

“I was thinking a home-home. Back home,” he added, not understanding why the bright smile she had worn when talking about other tourist traps was sliding off her face. “We wouldn’t have to live in Ray’s old place.” Oliver didn’t really want to, considering the things Ray and Felicity had probably done there.

“Where exactly is this coming from?” Felicity asked. “I thought we both wanted a break from all that.”

“A break from everything the League put us through, yes,” Oliver agreed. “But that doesn’t mean we have to let it drive us away from our home.”

“Technically speaking, Starling was my home for about five years, give or take. I could take it or leave it,” Felicity remarked. He must have reacted somehow, for she immediately added, “I mean, it hasn’t been the best of places to you. Nobody expects you to have to stay there forever. Loads of people move away from their hometowns.”

“But I don’t want to move away from my hometown,” Oliver insisted. About a month ago, he might have been willing to compromise on it, but the total lack of anything from the city or the people he cared about in it had left him homesick in a way he hadn’t felt since long-ago cold nights on Lian Yu where he’d huddled by a meager fire and held Laurel’s photo up to the light. He wished he’d thought to take some kind of memento of home with him this time, not that he ever expected to receive that kind of thing from Laurel ever again. “Not permanently.”

“Oliver, what would you even do back in Starling? You’re too famous and too broke to get any kind of work, and if you were crazy enough to even touch vigilantism again, Captain Lance would hit the roof. I’m not going to watch you go to jail again.”

“He can’t bring me in on trumped up charges for the same thing so soon,” Oliver argued, sure that there was a more professional way of wording it, but he’d leave that to Laurel’s expertise. “Laurel would run interference.”

“Oh like  _ that _ would go well,” Felicity muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

“What do you mean?”

She stood and turned away from him. “I mean that getting you out of that life unscathed was already hard enough one time, and I’m not interested in doing it all over again.”

“You’re assuming I’d even go back into that life,” he said, thinking guiltily of two robbers who were probably on their way to a jail by now. “But my sister is in that life. Our friends. We could still help them.”

“It’s too risky.”

“Felicity—”

“No, Oliver. We are never going back to Starling!”

Oliver stared at her, thunderstruck.  _ Never _ ? He had assumed the answer might be something like three months or six or a year at the extreme, but  _ never _ had not crossed his mind once.

She turned back to him, eyes full of tears that were only moments away from spilling over. “I can’t go through all that again. Please, I love you too much.”

“Felicity….” He didn’t understand. Why was she so convinced that the worst-case scenario would play out if they even set  _ foot _ in the city? But she needed comfort, so he stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m sorry. We can table this.” For now, at least. He’d have to find a better way of talking her round to it.

“Thank you.” Felicity stayed there for a while, then pulled back so she could cup his face with both hands. “I know this has been kind of boring for you the last few weeks. I’ll look into some of those other vacation spots, get us a change of scenery, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, though his heart was hardly in it.

“I’ll start tomorrow,” Felicity decided. “Kind of need a lie-down after all that.” She headed back to their room and shut the door, leaving him standing there by the computer.

Oliver looked at it, wondering for a moment if anyone would notice a brief look at the  _ Starling Gazette _ ’s homepage… but he had no way of knowing Felicity’s passwords and didn’t want to get her in trouble with company regulations besides. Even if he didn’t remember them being that strict during his own time as CEO.

He’d had no idea Felicity had such a visceral response to Starling now. When had that happened? And how did he balance her feelings with his desire to go home? John would have advice, probably, but John might as well be on another planet for how well Oliver could reach him.

The triumph he had felt reconnecting with what his purpose had been for so long had completely deflated, and Oliver could do little else but lie down himself. He chose the couch rather than joining Felicity in their bed.

As he closed his eyes, all that came to his mind was a shouted cry of both despair and desperation:  _ “Oliver, we believed in you!” _

There’d been a time he’d believed in himself, too. What had changed so much?

—

She waited for the new moon to steal across the darkened grounds dressed all in black with a beanie on to hide her hair. Thea had spent enough time casing the cemetery to know that there was no regular guard stationed, but she didn’t want to risk being exposed by too much light. The night was a cloudy one as well, so not even the stars could threaten to appear. They were well into summer but, though it could have been her imagination, Thea felt there was a chill to the air.

It was hard work, digging up a grave. Thea was glad she’d kept up her training exercises the last few months, as it required nearly all of her strength just to reach the lid of the coffin with her shovel.

Her arms and back were aching, but Thea jumped down into the hole beside the wooden box, a shiver running down her spine as she laid her hand on the lid of the coffin holding the woman she had killed. Unknowingly or not, Sara was in this coffin because of her. Beyond everything happening with Laurel and her father, Thea owed it to the Lances to right that wrong.

She had been taught by her father the more discrete forms of travel where people didn’t ask questions. Necessary for when you were accompanying a supposedly dead domestic terrorist or had luggage you  _ really _ didn’t want getting x-rayed. Thea had bought the plane tickets in advance, knowing she would have to move quickly once Sara’s grave had been dug up. She didn’t know if Laurel ever stopped by to visit it anymore or if that would be too dangerous, and she didn’t know whether Lance did at all, but the chance that one of them could and would find out was high. The sooner she had Sara back to them, the better.

Thea had the coffin placed on a wheeled cart when she arrived in the small village that lay in the shadow of the mountain Nanda Parbat sat in. It was tough getting it up the rocky, dirt path, but she knew attempting to carry it would’ve been impossible on her own. As she drew closer, she waited for one of the guards to appear and was pleased when one did. “Hey,  _ Al-Riyh _ . Little help with my trunk?”

The man did as told, and Thea had to admit there were some perks to being the daughter of Ra’s al Ghul. She and Sara’s coffin were installed in a guest room that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Medieval Times bed and breakfast. 

Thea left Sara and the coffin in her room when she was summoned to dinner with her father, which was served on a long table in eerie reminiscence of her childhood. Except that literally every person at or around the table had and could kill people, including her. Nyssa wasn’t there, she noted, but then she didn’t know if Nyssa got to sit at Ra’s table anymore or if she’d been demoted to eat with the rest of the assassins. Thea hoped so; Nyssa would probably hate having to dine with Thea’s father.

“I was surprised you decided to return to Nanda Parbat after all,” her father said as an opening remark after she’d taken a seat to his right.

Thea gave a casual shrug. “Well, there’s really not much going on there now. Actually, Laurel’s been kind of quiet. Some people think she really left.” Her eyes ended up on her plate by the time she’d finished speaking, and she quickly took a bite to avoid having to say anything further on it. Thea didn’t want to think about the other reasons that Laurel might have otherwise seemingly disappeared the last few nights, the more permanent reasons. None of what she was trying to accomplish here would put things to rights if it turned out Laurel had been killed out there.

“I see. Well, I do wish you’d sent word ahead. I would have cleared my schedule to give you the proper tour.”

“How was I supposed to do that, carrier pigeon?”

He merely sighed at that. “Alert  _ Al-Riyh _ if you find the accommodations are not to your liking tonight.”

“Sure thing. Did you find Ollie yet?”

“I’m waiting for news from the followers I sent in search of him.”

He didn’t offer any details about what else he had been up to as Ra’s al Ghul with his assassin army. Part of Thea didn’t want to know. Ideally, she’d be in and out of here with Sara, and her dad could go on living his little power fantasy on his lonesome.

That night, Thea waited until she was sure there were no sounds of footsteps outside her door, then she cracked the lid open on the coffin. Sara’s body was a ghastly sight, and she quickly wrapped a blanket around her to pick her up. Thea crept out of her room and down the torchlit corridor, ears straining for any kind of sound and well aware that everyone here was well-practiced in the art of not making any.

She made it to the room with the Pit undetected, and Thea wasted no time in unrolling the blanket and letting Sara’s body slip into the water. It was only once the head disappeared under the surface that Thea realized she wasn’t sure how this process worked or if there was something she would need to do to get Sara out. Then the water stopped bubbling.

“Uh…”

Half a minute went by, and Thea started rolling up her sleeves, preparing to wade into the pool to fish Sara out herself, when suddenly the bubbling started up again, faster and frothier. Thea watched, tensed and waiting for something, anything.

She still wasn’t prepared when Sara burst through the water and leapt onto the stone floor. The emaciated corpse was gone, and she was a living, breathing woman again.

“Sara,” Thea said, breathless with relief. But Sara’s head snapped up, and her gaze was wild and furious. “Sara?”

The woman she’d killed leapt on her, teeth bared and hands formed into claws, and Thea knew her plan had not been so perfect after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another Saturday means another update! Here we’ll check back in with the villains, introduce a familiar face and his perspective, further some subplots and also find time for a scene a couple of you have been looking forward to since last week’s update... hopefully you enjoy!
> 
> Also, this fic now has it’s own TvTropes page thanks to missourielephant. You can check it out at [this link](%E2%80%9C).

What was she playing at now?

It was the question that had been plaguing Quentin’s mind the last couple nights when reports of the Black Canary had failed to come in. She hadn’t been quiet like this since this whole thing started, and it left him on edge.

Laurel wasn’t some master manipulator. Sure, she had her way of building her arguments, but she was more of a battering ram when it came to going after something she wanted done. So if she wasn’t making noise and wasn’t out there kicking people’s heads in and adding to the laundry list of growing charges as well as his ulcer, it had to mean something. But what?

Maybe she’d found a way out of the city under his nose. Maybe she was out there causing trouble somewhere else. Maybe none of this would’ve happened if he’d just held his tongue and let her go make her money in San Francisco, Quentin thought with a snort.

But he just didn’t get why she’d have stuck it out this long only to leave without so much as a notice. It wasn’t like her at all, if he knew her like he thought. Quentin hadn’t thought Laurel would lie to him about Sara’s death for months either, and look how that had turned out.

What else could he really assume? She was totally out of contact with him, so the only information he had came directly from his officers. Maybe he needed to get out there more himself, take a hands-on approach. It was his daughter that was making a laughingstock of his department, so it stood to reason he needed to bring her in line to make things right with city council and with Damien. The investor had only started on one project in one of the most run-down sections of the Glades. He wouldn’t invest more unless Quentin made good on the directive to bring vigilantism to a stop in his city.

There were other reasons he wanted Laurel found and brought in. He wanted to know just what that strange ability she had with her voice was, how it had happened and what they could do to fix it. He didn’t like the way certain circles around city hall had started referring to her in low tones as some kind of freak, how they eyed him once in a while as if wondering if she might not be the only Lance with some kind of secret. The sooner he got to the bottom of that, the better.

His phone rang, and Quentin picked it up. “Lance.”

_ “Quentin.” _

He sighed. “Dinah.”

_ “Has there been any news?” _

She’d started calling about a week ago, he supposed because the news had started to spread outside of the city.

“None. She hasn’t been seen for a couple nights, either. We’re considering that she might have fled the city. Have you heard anything?”

_ “No. I was hoping she might reach out. I— this is terrible, Quentin, but I feel responsible in part for all this.” _

He went for the bottle in his desk. Just what he needed; another of his ex-wife’s confessions. “How’s that?”

_ “She told me about Sara in December when I visited. I know I should have told you, but Laurel told me she was worried about your heart condition. I thought she knew best. Then she told me that she was planning to find Sara’s killer herself, and I… I encouraged her, Quentin.” _

He downed a shot and put his face in one hand.

_ “What else could I do? There wasn’t going to be any sort of trial or justice for our baby, so I knew Laurel would get it for her. But I see how that only caused her to choose this path, that it’s led to all this trouble. I never wanted any of this to happen.” _

“Nobody did. I asked her to stand down, gave her the option to seek care on the quiet.” He shook his head. “We just didn’t raise quiet girls.”

_ “No. I’m just so worried we’ll end up losing them both. You said there hasn’t been anything for a few nights. Quentin, you don’t think—” _

His stomach turned, and he found himself regretting that shot. “No. No, it’d be all over the news.”

_ “That’s not exactly how I’d want to hear about our only daughter’s death.” _

“If I hear anything, I’ll call you.”

There came a knock at his door, and he straightened up a little in his chair and shoved the bottle back in the drawer. “Listen, I gotta go,” he said into the phone, hanging up before he said louder, “Come in.”

Warner entered after a pause, her expression serious. “Captain, I was hoping to talk to you about something important.”

“I’ve got the time.” He practically lived at the precinct these days. “What’s this about?”

“The Canary case, sir. I wanted to get your authorization for a shoot on sight order.”

“What?” He gaped up at the woman where she stood with her head cocked at an odd angle. “Wh- why are you asking for that?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said why are—”

“I feel it’s best for the unit, sir,” she said in answer. “Most of the officers are hesitant to approach her in close quarters given the nature of what she is capable of. But by maintaining our distance, all that does is continue to let her get away. The longer this goes on, the worse the reputation of this department becomes. The city will continue to lose faith in us and our ability to act, Captain,” Warner stated. “Will you approve the order?”

“I…” he trailed off, trying to wrap his head around this. One of his officers was asking permission to shoot his daughter. His own flesh and blood. It was one thing when he’d held the gun on her, no matter how outraged Laurel had been about it. He’d known he’d never fire. But to sign off on his entire precinct having the authority to do so?

He didn’t want her shot, for God’s sake. If she’d just turn herself in already, this wouldn’t even be a question on anyone’s mind.

Before he could answer, there was another sharp rap on the doorframe. Damien Darhk’s white-blond head poked in. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

His head was starting to pound, but Quentin waved the man in. City Council wouldn’t like it much if he blew off their only angel investor. “We were just discussing policy. Warner, you can return to your desk.”

“Actually, I did overhear  _ just _ a little,” Darhk said, one hand held out to keep Warner from exiting. “And if I’m allowed, I have to say I think Sergeant Warner’s proposal has merit. In fact, the other night, a couple of my construction workers were assaulted by the Canary on their way home. I was only just made aware of that this evening. I’m afraid if too many of my men are injured or if word spreads to the others that a vigilante is targeting them, it will really set back the projects I have in mind for improving the city.” He shook his head. “I can’t afford to bankroll projects that will get stalled thanks to violence. I can’t ask those men to put themselves at risk that way, either.”

“I understand that, Mr. Darhk,” Quentin asked, all the while wondering what the hell Laurel was thinking beating up some blue-collar workers. She needed serious help if she’d slipped that far. “I’ll, uh, I’ll think your proposal over, Warner. Have an answer for you by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” She asked, leaning just a tad forward.

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

Warner nodded. “Thank you, sir. And thank you, Mr. Darhk.”

“No, thank you, Sergeant,” Darhk said. “Without men and women like you on the force, my work wouldn’t be possible.”

Warner left, and Damien turned his way. “Thank you for considering that proposal, Quentin. I know it couldn’t possibly be an easy decision to make.”

“Well, none of you are the ones really forcing the issue. If she’d just let herself be brought in,” he lamented, hunching forward over his desk. “Maybe she has skipped town. It’d make things easier for all of us.”

“Maybe. But I trust in your ability, Quentin.” Damien patted him on the shoulder once and left the office.

Quentin sat there a while longer in the silence, mind slowly turning over the things that had been said and the promises he had to keep. He had pledged an oath to his city, but he’d told Dinah he’d inform her on any news regarding Laurel. How did he tell her that their daughter might end up shot by one of his own officers? But how did he justify making an exception for a dangerous criminal, which in the end Laurel had become?

He left the precinct and shuffled to his car. Quentin dropped heavily into the seat and started the engine. Rather than make the short trip to his apartment, he steered the car towards the cemetery. He needed somewhere to think, to remind himself of why he was doing this so that hopefully he could see his way towards the right choice.

Yet as Quentin drew up to the plot of land belonging to his youngest, he came upon a sight that had him clutching his chest. “The hell?”

There was a hole dug in front of the tombstone, and when he hurried forward to look, Sara’s grave was empty, coffin and all.

How?  _ When? _ He’d been by within the last month. What could have possibly changed between then and now?  _ Who _ could have changed it? And why? The only people who even knew Sara was dead were—

They couldn’t have. Quentin hadn’t even wanted to believe Queen’s old allies could sink so low.

Was this some kind of retaliation? Robbing him of the right to visit the daughter who’d been taken from him when he’d only been aware that he could for a handful of months? Where the hell had they taken her?

And the thing that boiled at him was, he still couldn’t touch them. Not Diggle with his fancy agent title, not Queen’s kid sister, not Smoak in whatever corner of the globe she’d hidden herself with Queen. The only one he could direct his wondering and his fury onto was Laurel. Because whichever one of them had done this had clearly done it for her. And he’d only find out who once she was brought in, a feat his officers had yet to manage.

There was a red haze hanging over his eyes so thick, it almost surprised him he made it back to the precinct in one piece. He found Warner at her desk.

“You’ve got your approval. Shoot on sight,” he said, the blood rushing in his ears.

“Yes, sir.”

“But leg shots only. She’s to be brought in alive, understood?”

Warner had turned away from him but gave a nod, so Quentin nodded himself and left for the bar. He didn’t care how it looked; not one of them knew what kind of hell it was to be him right now.

He wouldn’t rest till he had both his girls back under his watch.

—

He had just retired to his chambers when Malcolm heard a distant, animalistic snarl that chilled his bones. He had not heard a sound like that since Thea had leapt from the Pit, out of her mind and craving violence. It couldn’t be that she had returned to that state after so much time had passed, but then  _ what _ had come to his fortress?

Malcolm threw his door open and barked an order to follow. The two guards stationed outside the Demon Head’s chambers quickly fell into step behind him as he marched towards the room containing the Lazarus Pit. It was already occupied, and when he realized by whom, his eyes widened.

What had his daughter done?

“Sara, Sara, it’s me!” Thea begged as she barely held the wild woman off her. Sara Lance’s teeth gnashed and her hands swiped the air, trying to claw at his daughter’s eyes.

“Seize  _ Taer Sah-fer _ ,” he ordered, drawing his sword. His followers did so, and the woman writhed and thrashed in their hold. Malcolm raised his sword, but Thea quickly scrambled to her feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting an end to this beast’s misery,” he explained, but his daughter quickly moved in front.

“No! I brought Sara back so she’d be  _ alive _ , not so that you actually killed her this time. I just… I did it wrong.”

“No, you did it exactly right. But this is what becomes of those who have been deceased for a time before they are resurrected. They return without a soul. Look at her, Thea,” he urged, and waited for his daughter to turn and do so. “Does anything in her speak of Sara Lance to you?”

She was silent for a long moment, watching the soulless creature struggle. Judging by her expression, she felt pity for the thing.

“She’s alive. She— there has to be a way to bring her back completely.”

“There is.”

“Well, what is it?” Thea asked when he didn’t offer anything more. She looked back at him with impatience in her eyes.

He sighed. “Those who are revived with the Pit suffer bloodlust to varying degrees. I’m sure you have noticed your own temper rising against your control from time to time these last few months. I warned Oliver there would be consequences, you know.”

“I haven’t killed anybody else,” she said immediately, defensive.

“No, but you will. Or the bloodlust will consume you and kill you. There is only one total cure to eliminate it. To kill the one who killed you. The previous Ra’s is beyond your reach, Thea, but Sara Lance… she will never be free of this until you are dead by her hands.”

His daughter shook her head. “There’s got to be another way.”

“There isn’t. The Pit is not meant to be used lightly, or to assuage your guilt.”

Thea took a step towards him. “I did this for Laurel! So her dad would stop going after her! I did it to fix the mess  _ you _ created by drugging me and making me do that! And nothing is happening to Sara until I am  _ sure _ that there is no other way to bring her back completely. Got that,  _ dad _ ?”

He held her gaze for a long moment, but she proved unwavering. Malcolm knew there was little use in denying her. She would just have to learn for herself that he was right.

“Chain  _ Taer Sah-fer  _ up in the dungeons and leave bread and water, assuming she will eat. Post a guard there all hours of day and night.”

“Your will be done, Ra’s,” said  _ Al-Qawiu _ . He led the way from the room, Sara Lance fighting every step of the way, her eyes rolling and her arms reaching back towards Thea until she was out of sight. His daughter watched, her throat bobbing as she gulped.

“You may read everything the League archives have to say about the Pit,” Malcolm told her. “That should satisfy your curiosity. I will show you them tomorrow. For now, I suggest you turn in and refrain from sneaking about any further.”

With that said, he turned and made his way back to his quarters. Once alone, Malcolm rubbed at his temples, allowing some of his careful composure to crack.

His daughter had brought to life the greatest threat to her own. Out of ignorance, perhaps, but Sara Lance’s execution was now being stayed by Thea’s stubbornness as well. He would need to redouble his efforts to locate Oliver, Malcolm decided. While Oliver was not perhaps the sharpest sword in the smithy, he could be practical at times. He would know what was best for Thea and had her trust in a way Malcolm no longer did. He would have to convince her.

As for the other Lances, far better they never know what transpired here tonight.

—

John felt he had adjusted to life as a full-time ARGUS agent about as well as expected. To be perfectly honest, it was a lot more desk work than he’d been expecting. That R in the name didn’t stand for Research for nothing, apparently.

He was sure he would re-evaluate whenever he was sent on his first official mission, but right now he was just thankful to be able to come home to his baby girl every night and spend time with his wife. He felt guilty about leaving Laurel to fend for herself out there in the field, but he knew she’d be furious with him if he threw his family away just to keep being a vigilante with her.

Though he felt he wasn’t entirely out of the game just yet when an unmarked package showed up on his doorstep one afternoon. John took it out around back rather than bring it into the house. He opened the small, thin box carefully, raising an eyebrow when he realized it held a comm link. There was a note inside as well that someone had typed on.

_ Please hang onto this for a mutual friend. She’ll be by to get it when it’s ready. _

That evening, there was a light knock at his back door. He checked that the front curtains were drawn and went to open it.

“Laurel.”

“Hi, John. Sorry about this.”

He shook his head and showed her in, then pulled her into a hug. She clung on tightly for a moment. He had to wonder how long it’d been since she’d had one.

John pulled back and looked at her. She was a little thinner, but not skin and bones, and her hair looked cleaner than he would have expected. Her clothes were another story, the tank top having a couple small holes and her jeans looking faded and worn.

“Laurel,” Lyla said. “Oh, it’s good to see you. The news hasn’t said anything recently.”

“I had to take a few days off. I got a concussion,” she explained.

“Is there anything we can get you? Food, water?”

“That’s okay, Lyla, thank you.”

“I figured this was for you,” he said as he retrieved the box with the comm link. “Who’s it from?”

“A new friend of mine,” she replied evasively, tucking her hair behind one ear. “Listen, I don’t want to get you in any trouble with your new job, but there’s something I wanted to ask.”

“Name it,” he said.

“There’s a new player in town, Damien Darhk. He’s ex-League of Assassins and apparently knew Ra’s from  _ way _ back in the day but has his own cult following now. I think he stole something from ARGUS recently. The Kushu Idol.”

John looked back at Lyla, but though her eyes widened, she replied, “I’m not sure I’m familiar with it just hearing the name. I can look into it, though. It’d be good to know if it’s close by.”

“If you could find out everything it does or the kind of limitations it has, that’d be great, too. I don’t know how much ARGUS has on file. My friend, she found out it was recovered on one of Ollie’s missions for them,” Laurel said, her eyes on the ground. “And we can’t really ask him, so…”

“We’ll do what we can,” John promised. “Laurel, if this Darhk is in town, how big of a threat are we talking here? How many of these followers does he have?”

“I don’t know. They’re just called H.I.V.E.,” Laurel answered.

John froze. “H.I.V.E. You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

Lyla frowned, taking a couple steps closer to him. “Johnny, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he said, working to school his features. “Guess we can try and see what ARGUS has on them, too.”

“Okay. I don’t know when I can come by again. I really shouldn’t. But I didn’t know where else was a safe place to have this sent,” Laurel said, holding up the box. “So thank you.”

“Whatever we can do,” Lyla said. “Be as safe as you can be out there, okay?”

“I do my best, but John would know how well that usually goes.”

He managed a twitch of the lips as a smile. “Let us know if you need anything, anytime.”

She hesitated a moment. “I, uh… I lost my bike.”

“I’m not using mine.” He grabbed the keys off a ring and tossed them to her. Better someone make use of the thing, since he didn’t exactly want to flaunt that he owned equipment that had briefly been used by his vigilante alter ego.

Laurel caught them and slipped back out into the growing dark. A few moments later, they heard the engine start and drive away.

Lyla sighed. “I wish I’d known she was coming. We could have put something together to take back to that hideout.”

“Knowing Laurel she’ll be going straight out to patrol after this,” he countered. “She’s got time to make up for.” The city had noticed the Canary’s absence the last few nights, after all. It had led to speculation and a growing dread, particularly in the Glades.

John left the main area and shut himself in their bedroom, not really in the mood to keep up a conversation. What Laurel had told them left him too much to think about.

Almost two years ago, Lawton had told him an organization called H.I.V.E. had ordered his brother’s murder. Now an organization by the same name was in town. It had to be the same one. But why were they here now? And more importantly, what was he going to do about it?

He had tried to research H.I.V.E. on his own time the last couple years and come up with dead ends. Now he had the resources of the federal government at the tips of his fingers. ARGUS had to have more intel than what he’d been able to find. And hell, Damien Darhk would have the most intel of all.

If what Laurel was saying was true, then perhaps the man who had ordered his brother’s murder was in his city, was within reach for the very first time. He could finally do something about that. Maybe through ARGUS, but if not?

One way or another, Laurel wouldn’t have to do this alone. He’d take down H.I.V.E. himself for what they did to his brother.

—

Felicity couldn’t say she was having a great Monday. For one thing, Oliver had been up and out the door early enough that she’d had to make her own coffee. He’d been spending a lot of time outdoors lately, and while he looked great with a tan, she knew he was getting restless. She really needed to take a serious look at those other vacation homes like she’d said she would and figure out which one would most believably also not have WiFi.

For another thing, the board was still grumbling about the quarterly statements from last month. Felicity thought they were acting way too panicky too soon about it. Of course, their numbers were going to take a bit of a hit after the previous CEO accidentally killed himself and a relative unknown took over the position. Really, there was probably a fair bit of sexism involved in the whole decreased-confidence thing people were supposedly feeling. They’d bounce back by next quarter, and there really wasn’t a need to get on her back about it.

But most frustratingly of all, she had been unable to have a moment’s peace to herself today because of the war currently being waged for control of her computer.

It had started innocuously enough. An email from an anonymous account asking to talk to her and Oliver about the state of things in Starling City. She’d blocked it and moved on.

Then her social media messaging platforms had been pinged one by one, and though Felicity blocked each attempt, another had soon taken its place. She got so fed up that she logged out of everything. Except, then whoever it was had forced a login by utilizing the ‘remember me’ function, which Felicity  _ knew _ she should never ever use, but in her defense, she only ever used her social media for looking at pictures of cute animals. There was nothing incriminating on there!

So she’d logged out again and toggled the ‘remember me’ function off before clearing her browser history. She’d also strengthened her firewall.

She’d been all set to start another video conference call, only for her to be booted out of the company’s virtual meeting room and into a totally different one. “Whoa, what?” She’d said at the time.

A glowing blueish-greenish logo had been all that greeted her, as well as an altered voice.  _ “Hi, Felicity. I can understand why you didn’t want to respond to my messages before. You never know what’s a scam on the internet. Maybe now we can talk, and Oliver as well if he’s available. This concerns both of you, but especially him.” _

She’d begun typing furiously to make the screen go away, close out or cancel the connection. “Yeah, sorry whoever you are, but you’re kind of making me late for a work meeting. We can reschedule for… never,” she’d finished before entering the final key that let her out of the call. Which had landed her back in the virtual board meeting with a bunch of unimpressed board members. She hadn’t even been  _ trying _ to be late this time!

The unknown woman hadn’t stopped trying to reach out the entire day. Video screen windows and text boxes popping up faster than Felicity could close them up. It was like playing digital whack-a-mole, and she was sure it probably just looked like she wasn’t paying attention to anything going on today. Well, she’d like to see anyone pay attention to work while trying to fend off an invasion like this.

Who was this woman? Why did she want to talk about what was happening in Starling? And why did she want to talk to Oliver, especially? She couldn’t somehow  _ know _ , could she? And if so, what sort of trap was she trying to spring on Felicity’s boyfriend?

“Oh no, you don’t,” she said when another video call attempted to start for the fiftieth time.

“Felicity?”

She jumped and whirled around. “My love!”

Oliver stood there in his sweats, looking curiously at her and the computer, and Felicity quickly spun back in the chair to send it to sleep.

“How was your day?”

“The same,” he answered shortly. “Something going on with work?”

“Um, yes. There’s a,” she thought quickly for a moment, trying not to draw out the word too long, “virus that got onto the server somehow. Probably someone opened a phishing email. Not that you know what phishing means, but anyway, it has made everything  _ exhausting _ , and I am glad to be done. What’s dinner plans?”

He shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet.”

Felicity’s face fell a little. Their first several weeks here, Oliver had been all about trying new recipes and making her favorites. Now he seemed disenchanted with the whole idea, and she was starting to wonder if her domesticated lion was longing for the wild despite his own best interests. Well, that was why he had her.

Felicity braced her arms on either side of the chair. “I’ll let you decide that, then, while I go take a soak to try and loosen some muscles.” She stood and walked past him to the bathroom, spinning back on her heel once to ask, “Do you think you could get me a glass of wine?”

“Sure,” he said, his eyes still on the computer. He’d been eyeing it a lot lately, now that she thought about it. Maybe not the best sign either.

She resolved not to think about it once she got into her hot bath. The water felt good, and she was happy to be presented with a nice glass of red even if Oliver left the room scarcely before she’d had the chance to give a thank you. Much less invite him in. It was a little depressing that she was having trouble recalling the last time they’d been truly intimate.

The trouble was he’d started going to bed incredibly late and rising far earlier than she did. Then he spent as much of his day outdoors as he could while she worked. They were basically roommates that shared a bed at this point, and Felicity knew if she didn’t figure out their next move soon, that was all they would continue to be. Whether consciously or not, Oliver was choosing to avoid her to express his discontent. But the more he avoided her, the less excuses she had to make up for why they couldn’t find out more about the current events of Starling City or the friends they had left behind there.

She would strengthen her firewall against all outside attacks and commence the search for a new and improved vacation home tomorrow. For now, she would relax.

Her peace and quiet wasn’t meant to last.

_ “Some people want it all, But I don't want nothing at all,” _ A woman’s voice suddenly belted out with musical accompaniment, so startling that Felicity sat up and tipped the wine down her front.

“No, ugh!”

_ “If it ain't you, baby, If I ain't got you, baby.” _

It was coming from the main room of the house. Where her computer was.

“Ohhh she is asking for it,” Felicity grumbled, heaving herself out of the tub and grabbing the nearest towel to quickly dry off with. Then she wrapped herself up in it and marched out into the house.

_ “Hand me the world on a silver platter, And what good would it be. With no one to share, with no one who truly cares for me...” _

Oliver was hovering over the chair and clicking with the mouse as the computer appeared to be doing its best to restart.

“Oliver, did you touch something?”

“No, it started on it’s own. I was trying to figure out how.”

“I’ve got it,” she said quickly, shooing him out of the way.

_ “Some people want diamond rings, somejust want everything. But everything means nothing if I ain't got you, you—“ _

Felicity shut her computer down, then bent under the desk and yanked the Ethernet cable out of its port. “See you try and do anything now,” she declared in triumph.

“So that was the virus?” Oliver asked.

“Uh, yep,” Felicity said, crawling back out from under the desk and standing, not an easy feat while wearing a towel.

“What exactly does it do?” He seemed rather interested to know.

“Nothing,” she answered. “Nothing except make a nuisance of itself by creating a lot of pop ups and playing bad R&B music from the nineties, apparently.”

“It’s not that old.”

“Oh? You listened to R&B?” She really wouldn’t have pegged him for that.

He shrugged. “It was kind of popular in high school. I know that song was. Haven’t heard it since prom,” he mused, a faraway look in his eye.

“Okay, well I’d rather not reminisce about your prom and whatever bimbo you took to it,” she said, crossing past him again on her way back to the bedroom to get actually dressed.

“It was Laurel,” he said quietly, and Felicity froze. “I took Laurel.”

“Oh,” She said, turning around slowly. “Well, you know, that’s… fine. I wasn’t saying Laurel’s a— you know what I meant.”

Oliver didn’t say anything.

She combed some of her hair back with her fingers, trying to find something to change the subject with. “But, um, in future if the computer is acting up, I can handle it. I don’t really need random clicking around any more than you would’ve needed me using your arrows to try out a shooting range.”

Something in his expression tightened, but all he said was, “Right.” The pause after that was just as awkward as the previous one.

“I’m just gonna take a nap until dinner, okay?” Felicity decided, retreating into the bedroom. She threw on the first set of pajamas she could find in her dresser and then flopped face-first into the bed. Why had things become so awkward and strained between them? She never knew what to talk about, because anything from their old lives would just lead back to talk of going home, and their news lives were basically… nothing. She hated to think it, but it was filled with the same blah routine almost every day ever since she’d gone back to working five days of the week. Maybe taking a few vacation days in a row would let them spice things up, recapture that sense of sheer abandon she knew they’d both felt when they’d first driven out of the city limits.

But as Felicity dozed, she saw something far different in their future. Cops in riot gear swarming their little house and Captain Lance marching in with a new arrest warrant and extradition treaty, hauling Oliver away from her. He was locked in a cell with Laurel where they swayed together to their prom song, and all Felicity could do was yank fruitlessly at the bars separating her from them, from him.

She woke to near-darkness and stumbled out into the kitchen where a plate was waiting for her, but no Oliver. She didn’t know whether to feel depressed or relieved she wouldn’t have to hide the fear and frustration that dream had caused her. Oliver was here, but he wasn’t  _ here _ . If she could only guarantee one of those things, she’d keep him physically. She couldn’t lose him again.

—

Roy entered the convenience store and went straight back to the newspapers and magazines. Right on the front page of a copy of the  _ Starling Gazette _ read the headline  _ Canary sighting quells rumors of vigilante’s death _ . He let out a sigh in relief. Then he debated with himself and the change in his pocket as to whether the headline was enough this time or if he needed the full article.

He picked up the paper.

“You from there or something?” The cashier asked when he dropped it on the counter to pay for it.

“I’ve got family,” Roy mumbled, not quite meeting the man’s eyes.

He laughed. “Well, I’d tell them to get the hell outta Dodge if I were you!”

Roy wished he could. What the  _ hell _ was Laurel thinking?

The minute he’d decided on the plan to take the blame for being the Arrow, Roy had known he wouldn’t last long in Starling City. His job had been to take the focus off Oliver and then get himself out of there before someone could act on their revenge fantasy. But Laurel… what was the plan there? What were the others doing?

He’d been curious the other night a week or so back when he’d spotted his city’s name in the lower third of a newscast on the television in the run-down bar he sat in sometimes at night. Then that curiosity had turned to shock when he’d pieced together that the story was about the ongoing hunt for one of his friends.

Ever since then, he’d been checking every scrap of Starling City news he could get his hands on. He didn’t have a smartphone or a computer, so the internet wasn’t really an option. Only so many stores carried papers from out West. He’d been catching up on everything slowly but surely, and he didn’t want to believe things could’ve gotten so bad.

The one bright spot in all this, and a testament to that saying  _ no news is good news _ , was that he hadn’t seen Thea’s name brought into all this. She was still safe. Roy didn’t know what he would’ve done had it been her face up on the tv in that bar that he had seen, her story he was getting frustratingly limited snippets of in the papers. He’d probably already be on the bus back to Starling. He thought about it, now and then, even still.

Maybe Laurel wasn’t dead like some had started to speculate, but she would die out there if nobody did anything. He didn’t want to read about her death. They had had their arguments, but he had grown to like and respect her as his teammate. Part of him wondered guiltily if he was to blame for her sticking it out there, if she was still trying to prove that she’d earned her place in those streets. He’d been blowing smoke when he’d said all that stupid shit about her just being a lawyer; he’d felt hopeless in the wake of Oliver seemingly dying and trying to fill a leadership role he had never wanted. They wouldn’t have been able to stop Brick without her. She knew that, right?

The one thing that kept him from buying that Greyhound ticket was that he knew if he showed his face back there, the ruse would be up. Everyone would realize there’d been something fishy and start to poke holes in the rest of his story. That could put Oliver back in the crosshairs, whatever he was doing back home. Roy didn’t know, though, how Oliver could go from trying everything to dissuade Laurel from becoming a vigilante to abandoning her to her fate. It didn’t seem like the man he had been inspired by and learned under at all, but Oliver’s name was just as absent from the papers as Thea’s was, so he had to assume his old mentor was keeping away from it all one way or another.

He read the whole article through, looking for any additional information, but came away from it knowing little more than that Laurel was once again active in the streets. The call to return home rose up in him stronger than ever, and he didn’t know whether it would be more selfish to stay or go. His city was in trouble without him, but would he only cause his loved ones more trouble by trying to step in?

He couldn’t make his mind up, and he hated the feeling.

—

Cisco took a step back from his work to view it better, circling around it to see each and every angle. Personally, he thought it was some of his best. As it should be.

With all the cards stacked against her, Laurel needed a state-of-the-art suit in her corner. And with some of the experimental ideas he had in mind, he thought she’d be even more effective fighting crime in it than before. If he could get it to her, that was.

Cisco would need Barry for that, and Barry was out on a patrol right now. Barry had tacitly accepted that Cisco and Caitlin could hang out at the labs and provide any advice they happened to have when called for, which was a step-up from what he’d been doing before. They were slowly working on the idea that it might make sense to loop Joe back in as a police contact, too, and that it really wouldn’t be cool to leave Iris out if they were going to do all that anyway, but it was slow-going. Still, Cisco felt pretty confident they’d all be eating pizza and chilling in the cortex by the end of the month. Maybe even Dr. Allen would pop in.

Barry’s dad was finding it difficult to adjust to a Central City fourteen years removed from how he remembered it, but he was trying to since Barry had told him how Laurel’s advice had been what had gotten him the confession to get Henry Allen out. Which of course had necessitated explaining what had been happening between Laurel and Captain Lance.

“A father’s supposed to be there for their child and support them, not hunt them down,” Dr. Allen had said with a dismayed shake of the head. “I haven’t been able to be there for you nearly as much as I’d like, Slugger. But I’m here now. I’m here.”

They had of course  _ not _ told Joe yet about Laurel’s involvement in anything. Joe didn’t even know Laurel had set foot in Central City. He’d likely know something was up once reports started talking about her badass new suit, but Cisco figured they could cross that bridge when they got to it.

He entered the cortex and made his way to the comm station, but as he passed by one of the computer terminals, he noticed it was lit up with an error message. “That’s weird.”

Their computers were on an automated update system. Unless manually overridden, they didn’t attempt to update themselves until the wee hours of the morning and usually long after they’d all gone to bed. But one of them apparently had, and it hadn’t done it right. He was going to have to go in for a look.

Cisco brought up diagnostics, quickly realizing it was a coding problem. He opened up the window to look at that, but the discrepancy in the code was something he’d never seen before. It was like someone had put it there on purpose. He isolated it and looked even closer.

There was an audio file hidden somewhere on the computer. Cisco brought the headphones up to his ear and he coaxed it into playing, and felt his mouth drop at a familiar voice saying distressing words.  _ “I’m alive… and I’m in trouble…” _

“No way. No way, no way.” 

He tried some more, but Cisco couldn’t seem to locate the rest of Ray’s message. This was beyond his skill or something. But this was huge. They had to keep trying.

He rushed over to the command station and switched on the comm.

“Dude, you gotta get back to the Labs, stat.”


End file.
